


With The End Came You

by lotrspnfangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Minor Character Death, Near Death Experiences, Survival, there be sex, there's a cult
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:07:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 68,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27581792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotrspnfangirl/pseuds/lotrspnfangirl
Summary: The world has officially ended. With a viral pandemic sweeping across the globe, causing infected hearts to stop, their humanity to cease, and their being to crave the taste of human flesh - there’s no hope for things to ever be the same. After seeing Lisa and Ben torn apart, Dean does the only thing he can do - he leaves Cicero in search of his Uncle Bobby and his brother, Sam. Along the way he meets Castiel who is struggling to find his own purpose in the new world. Sometimes, the world doesn’t make sense. But there are things they can’t deny, and falling in love when everything else is falling apart is just one of them.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Charlie Bradbury/Gilda, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Past Castiel/Inias, past Dean/Lisa
Comments: 70
Kudos: 161
Collections: DCBB 2020, The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. The End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cryptomoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptomoon/gifts).



> Holy smokes! This entire process was both completely nerve wracking and so much fun. Although I have done two bangs now, written with my best friend [CassondraWinchester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassondrawinchester), this is my first time writing one solo! Not only that, this is my first time writing (er, completing?) a Destiel long fic.
> 
> This is also for my FicFacers for [CryptoMoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptomoon) who has GOT to be the _most_ patient person, as she has waited _ages_ for me to be able to write this for her. Between getting stuck in my own head, covid, and life; its been a long wait. I hope that this is worth it and everything you were hoping it would be! It is definitely a bit of a journey, and I hope that its one you enjoy taking.
> 
> That being said, I am a huge ball of insecurities and getting this far wouldn't have been possible without some awesome people in my corner. First? Lex, Mari, Linda - you guys are the real MVPs. You pushed me, listened to me, demanded from me, and brainstormed with me. For real, coming up with a brand new plot and writing 17k three days before the bang deadline for submissions? We're all a little crazy. Between the suggestions, comments, and messages of support... I'm still overwhelmed. But every time I felt stuck or discouraged, one or all of you were there and I thank you so, so much for that.
> 
> Secondly? [Koby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_communist_unicorn) and [Kim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EyumdaRelmera). You guys made this thing a million times better by helping me polish it! You both worked as hard as I did to help beta and edit this thing for me and I appreciate you being patient with me, helping me, and smoothing out my million loose threads that were just out there swinging in the breeze. You guys are fantastic and I am so happy you agreed to help me and I was able to get to know you both a little better. Shout out to Insomnia and K A Mindin over at Discord for helping me last minute!!
> 
> Thirdly? Thank you to the DCBB moderators. I've done two bangs as a co-author and (check me, but I think this is right) five years as an artist. You guys never cease to amaze me at how organized and passionate you are. You bring us Destiel Christmas every year and you do so by being just as energetic and excited as all of us are! Your support and understanding and patience is commendable. Thank you for another amazing year!
> 
> And last, but not least, [Ptqshka](https://ptqshka.tumblr.com/). Holy shit. Working with you was a dream! Your art was gorgeous and set the tone perfectly for this fic. I can't even begin to tell you how much your excitement from the get go kept me going! The scenes you brought to life were perfect renditions of what I saw in my own head and GAH, you made this fic a million times better. Thank you, for being so amazing through this. I am so grateful and I am so glad we were paired together. Everyone needs to go and check out her art here and the master post for this fic here. Leave her all of the love you can because she 110% deserves it all!
> 
> That being said, I hope everyone enjoys this. I had so much fun writing this. If there are any glaring inaccuracies or errors, erm, *raises hand* that would be me! It was both difficult and easy to imagine what the end of the world would be like, thank you 2020. I hope that everyone is staying safe, healthy, and enjoying the bang season. Feedback fuels the fire, and I appreciate everything anyone has to say! ♥ Dani xx

**The End**

_“What we call the beginning is often the end.  
And to make an end is to make a beginning.  
The end is where we start from.”  
T.S. Elliot_

**De Motte, Indiana  
** **41.144797, -87.259347  
  
**

The sun rose slowly into the sky, its bright orange rays sneaking their way through the buildings and trees, smothering the cold bite of early morning. The air itself was still and clear. The heaviness that usually accompanied the city and its surroundings had dissipated over the last few weeks, though there weren’t many who were around to appreciate it.

Dean blew out a slow breath, walking down the dashed line of the road he was on. It had been eight days since the official end of the world, and despite wanting to laugh at that thought being dramatic, it was entirely the truth. The bag over his shoulders was heavy, sweat dripping down his spine and collecting at the small of his back. It wasn’t heavy enough, however.

The end of the world should’ve happened after they’d gone shopping for the week…

He pushed that thought away, but it was too late. The last images of his home took over his vision, until the tears burned his eyes and he stumbled to a stop. Blood was the first thing he smelled when he walked into the house, the metallic tang nauseating as he dropped his work boots and ran inside. Then he saw it, hand prints dragged against the walls, Lisa’s fondness for ceramic vases and dried flowers shown in a kaleidoscope of broken shards and crushed petals.

Ben’s body was first, his feet sticking out from behind the island counter. There was no life left to him, his entire body ripped apart, leaving only his face untouched -- eyes blown wide in fear. Dean stood there frozen, a moment too long, before Lisa was on him.

The guttural scream that was wrenched from her body was one that Dean still could hear in his dreams.

She’d launched herself over the counter, nails digging at Dean’s back as she took him down to the ground. He’d received a face-full of blood before he got his wits about him, twisting around to drag her off of him by her hair. She looked like herself, like the Lisa he’d built a life with over the last six years, in every way except for her eyes.

Usually a beautiful chocolate brown, they were ringed in red, tears of blood slipping from the corners and making tracks down her cheeks. Her mouth was covered in blood that Dean knew in his heart was not her own. He reacted, giving into the fight response that was screaming at him from his gut, and slammed her backwards until her head cracked against the marble counter.

Stunned, she reeled to the side before gaining momentum to lunge at him once more. The few seconds were all he needed, however, and he plunged a kitchen knife straight into her heart.

The tears he cried did nothing to help the situation, but Dean was frozen against the kitchen counter, Lisa’s body growing colder in his lap and Ben’s already like ice beside him. It was clear that it would be seen as an act of defense, but he couldn’t bring himself to call 911. What would he say? How would he explain what he saw in Lisa’s eyes?

It was one of the last moments of clarity that Dean had had… the last moment of normalcy. Sam had kept him calm and convinced him to call 911, but the instructions he received were baffling. Unphased, they brushed him off and gave him a number to report to before hanging up. Their house hadn’t been the only one affected, nor was it the first. It took almost another twenty-four hours for random “violent attacks” and “domestic violence” to turn into a state of emergency.

_“Maybe… it was a fluke…”_

But Dean could tell Sam didn’t even believe his own words.

_“I’ve been looking up articles from Europe… they have reported cases from weeks ago, Dean. Why didn’t we know?”_

And wasn’t that the question on everyone’s minds. Dean could barely stomach watching the press interviews with President Trump. The man had always lacked social graces, of course, but it was clear that he was terrified and had no idea what was truly happening. Dean had taken to shouting at the television for him to shut up and _listen_ instead of talking himself in circles before the news simply… stopped reporting.

The internet was next, then the phone lines, leaving Dean unable to contact his brother in California. That terrified him more than anything else did. The last he knew, Sam’s dorm had been in lockdown, with the students as safe as they could be hundreds of miles from home. The idea of an outbreak happening in the dorms had both of them worried.

Travel was banned between states, then cities, leaving everyone to wander aimlessly through their day-to-day lives afraid of every neighbor that got too close. The military was called in and oversized metal gates were set up around larger cities to ‘keep people safe’, but Dean could see through the stoic faces of the guards at the gates and knew their true purpose.

In the suburbs, the piled bodies started to increase. People left their loved ones wrapped in heavy blankets and dragged to the edge of their lawns like trash. It was what they were ordered to do, “collection will come on Fridays”, but it made Dean vomit just thinking of putting Lisa and Ben out there, too. He couldn’t. He _wouldn’t_. Instead, Dean had carried their bodies to the master bedroom and shut the door, effectively making the upstairs a tomb.

Three weeks after Lisa and Ben died, they were ordered not to leave their homes. Dean dug an old radio out of the garage and tuned into the President giving updates on what was happening in America.

_“We’ve had a tremendous week uniting the country in our fight against the virus.”_

_“Zombies? Zombies are not real, no, this is a Chinese virus. It came from overseas, and we’ll make it go back there.”_

_“I am working on a cure. I have to protect the American people. That’s what I’ve always done. That’s what I will always do. That’s what I am about.”_

_“We are all scared, I get that. It's scary, this virus. But less than one-percent of the population is being infected. We will be okay, as a country we are strong.”_

The broadcasts, too, thinned out. Only coming once a day, the remainder of the time was left on eerie static except for when the city itself came over to announce the delivery schedule for care packages. It was the only time they were allowed out of their homes, to meet the armed military truck to get food and toiletries. Each person had to come out of the house in order to be counted, everyone made to stand in a line, six-feet apart so the gunman could see each and every person easily.

Those, too, stopped after two weeks, and that was when Dean knew.

He took three days to gather whatever supplies he could around the house, filling an old hiking backpack with non-perishable food, two outfits, and half of the medicine cabinet. He fastened the small tent they’d gotten Ben last summer, the one he would pitch in the backyard to have sleepovers with his best friend, to the bottom of the backpack along with the waterproof, nylon and flannel blanket Lisa bought for the beach.

Dean took a moment to stare at the Impala, knowing that taking the car would be more hassle than it was worth. The roadways were blocked, meaning he wouldn’t be able to take main drags or the interstate with her. While it would provide him protection from the elements, gas would be hard to obtain. He did pull her into the garage, for whatever good it would do, and he patently ignored the fact that he would never come back to Cicero.

Dean had avoided Indianapolis, instead heading north to Interstate 65. He could see Lake Michigan in the distance and knew he was coming up on Chicago, so it was time to change direction. Interstate 80 would take him to Omaha where he would have a straight shot north again to Sioux Falls.

Hopefully Sam would have the same idea as him and he’d find his brother and Uncle Bobby safe at the junkyard. It was that single thought that kept him going, despite the fact that his hiking shoes were biting into his heels now that his blisters were rubbed raw. He’d grabbed enough Tylenol to take down a horse but had overlooked sunscreen.

Blowing out a slow breath, he wiped the wetness from his eyes and blinked up into the sun, shaking out the memories so he could focus on his task. He needed a new map, the one he’d grabbed from home only showing him major highways and mountain ranges. If he was able to get a better map, he could potentially get off the interstates and take routes and side roads to cut down on his time.

The sign to his right told him he was 70 miles from Chicago, and he could see the giant ‘Love’s Travel Stop’ sign looming over the tree line. Blowing out a breath, he moved to the side of the pavement to look over the guardrails. There was a slight decline, but it appeared to flatten out. He thought he even saw a cornfield popping up behind the trees.

“Here goes,” he muttered to himself, careful of the hot metal as he climbed over the rail and took his time moving down the embankment. The sign was large enough that it gave him a destination and he made his way through the trees, grateful for the temporary shade.

The corn, unfortunately, wasn’t ripe enough to pick but he passed a small residential area where he was lucky enough to find a small garden patch with an unspoiled tomato and three oversized cucumbers. He ate the tomato as he walked, licking the juice and seeds from his fingers, chuckling at the idea that Sam would be impressed with just _how_ much Dean was enjoying the fruit.

He wiped his hands on his jeans as he neared the travel stop, slowing down his pace to survey the surroundings. There were cars parked haphazardly around the gas station, a layer of dust and bird shit covering them. From what he could see, the cars themselves were empty and other than a few crows hopping over the tar, there was no movement.

Other than seeing Lisa first hand, Dean had only seen the aftermath of the creatures. Zombie wasn’t the right word, no matter what Trump had said over the radio. People weren’t rising from the dead or crawling out of their graves, but Dean didn’t have anything better to call them. They fought like animals, prey-driven and angry, but they were held captive by their human vessels and that gave Dean at least some of the upper hand if he were to run into one. He was strong, he was cautious, and he would fight like fucking hell.

Fortunately, the store itself was blissfully empty and unlocked, allowing Dean to blow out a sigh of relief. While he would fight for his life, he didn’t _want_ to. Most of the aisles had already been ransacked, but he took his time looking over the non-perishables and gained a can of tomato soup and a box of Kraft. He walked around to the medical section, but all that was left were a few boxes of tampons and motion sickness medication.

He spared a small chuckle at the fact the entire sex section was empty -- no condoms, lube, or cock rings spared in the face of impending doom. But the second his laughter stopped, his stomach plummeted and he had to shove his hands in his pockets to keep them from shaking. If he had the choice, he would be taking comfort in Lisa right now, taking anything and everything she had to offer in forms of solace and giving her whatever he could in return.

“Fuck,” Dean whispered, stumbling over a knocked down display in his haste to get away from the aisle. He needed to get out of there, needed to press on.

He looked around the space and saw the signs for the restroom, clearing it quickly before he locked the main door to give himself a moment of peace. He stripped out of his clothes, hanging them over one of the bathroom stalls, and made quick work of washing himself at the sink. The water was only lukewarm, but it felt like heaven.

He pulled on clean underwear, socks, white undershirt, and his jeans, and wrapped his dirty clothes in his Henley which he placed with his blanket on the bottom of his pack. He would have to wash them when he stopped for the night, and he sent out a silent prayer that he would find a river or decent washroom.

As he unlocked the bathroom door, he paused and took a moment to listen before letting himself back out into the storefront. He made his way over to a rack of postcards and maps on the far side of the store. He looked through the maps, and grabbed a few that would be useful to him, stowing most in his bag and keeping the local one out for reference. Thankfully, they carried foldouts of the surrounding areas along with the ones of the United States as a whole.

It was still early in the morning, so he had a good few hours left in him to keep walking. Country Road, State Road 10, would take him straight to Route 114 and better yet, the Kankakee River. He hoped it would be clean and that was his goal before setting up camp for the night. He grabbed himself a candy bar to counteract the tomato and started back on his way.

**Momence, Illinois  
41.155821, -87.667584**

Dean shifted his backpack around, biting back the grunt as his shirt stayed plastered to his skin. So much for his bath that morning… August was not the time to be backpacking across the goddamn country. He ignored the twinge of pain in his feet and shoulders and focused instead on surveying the neighborhood he was in.

He’d moved quickly through the town, avoiding most of the residential neighborhoods after he saw people milling around. He wasn’t sure if they were _people_ people, but there were too many of them for his liking. If something went wrong, he would be outnumbered. And even if they were normal, there was a chance he’d get jumped for his supplies or they would try to coerce him into helping out, and he didn’t have time to deal with that right now.

The mall he passed was the same, a few cars even moving around. He was spotted by someone, the man parking his car and getting out, standing on the frame to glare over the top of the car as Dean passed by. He knew what that look meant, knew he wasn’t welcome, and he nodded once to let the man know he meant no trouble as he walked faster down the road.

He was now at the edge of the town, the last residential area leading into fields of corn, and he hesitated in the center of the street. He could smell the river was close, and his back-up plan was pitching the small tent and using the cover of the trees on the riverbank. But, if he could sleep in an actual bed tonight…

He turned towards a small house with three bodies lying wrapped out front by the mailbox. He held his breath as he moved past them, trying not to notice that one of the sheets was covered in bright Pokémon and the body too small to be an adult’s. The door was cracked open, which Dean hoped meant it would be empty and he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone coming back.

When he saw the blood stain on the floor, he stepped backwards, taking a few deep breaths as he leaned against the wall of the foyer. He didn’t have to go further, he could turn around right then and there, and head back out towards the river. But the gentle hum of the central air was just as inviting as the prospect of a bed, and he pushed himself forward, eyes trained ahead instead of on the floor.

He wondered just how long the world would have electricity as he slowly searched each room, his knife at the ready. When he marked the house clear, he walked to the front door and locked the deadbolt. There was a small table to the side with a potted plant on top that he moved to block the door as well. He made sure the back door and all the windows were locked, creating a makeshift barricade with chairs in front of the sliding door, before retracing his steps back to the master bedroom.

The room was in slight disarray, as if someone had left in a hurry, but the man that had lived in the house seemed to be a similar size to Dean. He picked through the dresser, taking out some undershirts, a sweatshirt, and more socks. No matter how many times he cleaned them, taking someone else’s underwear made him cringe, so he ignored that drawer. He had thought the few items of clothing he’d packed would be enough, but he’d underestimated the amount of sweating he would be doing and the amount of grime he would pick up on the road.

With his arms full of the new clothes and a throw blanket from the back of the couch, he found the laundry room and threw all of the clothes and the blanket into the washing machine. He stripped and added those clothes in before starting it, smiling as it began filling, and headed towards the shower. Thank goodness for well water.

The hot water did wonders for his sore shoulders and he stayed under the spray for far longer than necessary, letting it beat down on his back. He planned on taking advantage of these small pleasures whenever he was able to help keep his spirits up. By the time he was dried off, shaved, and wrapped in a towel, the washing machine was beeping to tell him the cycle was complete. He switched everything into the dryer and made his way around to the kitchen, ignoring the dark red stain on the hardwood in the hallway.

Either the family that had been here, or someone who had already scavenged, had taken all of the non-perishable items. But since the electric was still working, Dean would be able to create a meal out of a couple of chicken breasts and the bag of broccoli he found in the freezer.

He worked quickly, defrosting the chicken in the microwave and cutting two of the breasts thinly. He preheated the oven to 150 degrees F and seasoned the meat with the minimal spices from the cupboard. He was glad his father and Uncle Bobby had been fans of ‘roughing it’ every time they went camping. He ended up with two whole trays of jerky and shoved them in the oven before focusing on the last chicken breast, which he pan-fried while the broccoli steamed. He swore every time a bit of grease splattered and hit his bare chest, but the scent of the meat cooking overwhelmed the rest of his senses.

Dean took his meal to the small dining room and set it down, planning to have a normal meal for the first time since... He blocked that thought and left his plate to check the dryer, looking forward to being rid of the towel. He sighed when he saw it wasn’t ready yet and tapped his fingers against the top before he walked back to the table to start eating. It was the best damn thing he'd tasted in over a week.

Despite knowing he wouldn't be back here, and likely the homeowners wouldn't be either, he still took the time to wash and dry the dishes, cleaning up the kitchen as best he could. When everything was put away he made his way back to the laundry room, sighing happily as he pulled on the warm clothes. For a moment he could almost forget where he was and what was going on outside of these four walls.

Despite the sun still being out, he walked into the bedroom and stripped the sheets off the bed. He threw his own blanket down before climbing on top and pulling one of the edges over him. He knew he wouldn't have any problem falling asleep.

“I’m sorry, Lis,” Dean whispered into the empty room, rolling on his side and tucking his head into his arm. “Be safe, Sammy,” he mumbled as he nodded off.

**Seneca, Illinois  
41.376555, -88.622177**

A scream woke him that morning, high pitched and terrified, coming from the house next door. He’d leapt out of the bed, running towards the window and throwing it open, looking over just in time to see the neighbor fall. There was nothing he could do for her.

Instead, heart racing, he packed up the few things that had gotten away from him and shoved everything into his backpack. He pulled the jerky from the oven, making sure to turn it off, as he slid the meat into a plastic bag and shoved that on top of his pack.

He didn’t want to worry about the barricades, so he let himself out through the garage. He hesitated once when he saw the mountain bikes against the far wall -- he preferred four wheels beneath him, not two, but he couldn’t deny that a bike would get him where he wanted to go faster. Sighing, he shoved aside the child’s bike and the hot pink bike, taking the steel blue colored one and swinging his leg over.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered to himself as he walked with the bike towards the side door, hoping that the creature was still busy next door and that he was alone.

He spent six hours hoping he was heading in the right direction, getting sick of cornfield after cornfield, until he finally saw the sign for I-80. Although every apocalypse movie he’d ever seen showed the roadways crammed with cars, doors thrown open and debris left around, the highway itself was relatively clear. He wasn’t sure if the empty road was more unnerving than if there had been blockades of cars, but he focused on the fact that hopefully this meant people were able to get to wherever they were going.

The sun was hot as it beat down on his back and his ass was on fire. Dean hadn’t been on a bike since he was a kid and if he ended up with a blister on his ass… well, he was giving up right then and there. He couldn’t bite back the cry of pain that fell from his lips as he got off the bike and laid it in the grass, his legs shaking with the effort it took to lower himself to sit. Despite the heat, the water in the canteen was cool enough to be refreshing and he ate one of the cucumbers with a few pieces of the chicken jerky. The idea of getting back on the bike made him want to cry, so he fished through the bag for some of the Tylenol he brought and swallowed down three.

With the map spread out over his lap, he traced along the interstate with his finger, blowing out a breath. He hoped he had another six hours in him. It looked like he would be heading into -surprise, surprise - even more farmland, and after twelve hours on the bike, laying on the ground in the tent wouldn’t be the most pleasant night’s sleep.

But he was almost through Illinois, and Sioux Falls and Bobby were that much closer. If the roadways remained clear and the weather held out, he estimated it would take him another five hundred miles or so. If he maintained traveling at least twelve hours a day, it should only take him another two or three days.

With that thought renewing his motivation, he pried himself up from the ground and stretched, sliding the backpack straps over his shoulders and swinging his leg over the bike.

**Stuart, Iowa  
41.497454, -94.304841**

The entire time he traveled through Des Moines, Dean had been on edge, expecting it to be the end. It had been a struggle getting the bike through all of the checkpoints, the military gates surrounding the city were not made to be broken into, and he half expected to run into a creature at every turn.

The city, however, was mostly silent. He saw movement every once in a while in the higher windows of the apartments and most of the lower level storefronts were boarded up with thick plywood. He didn’t even entertain the idea of breaking into those - if he couldn’t scout the area through glass, he wasn’t risking it.

The few stores he could see into that looked promising were thankfully empty of people and creatures, and Dean was able to refill his canteen, obtain a second back up of water, and a few more cans of food. He was damn lucky to find a pharmacy that hadn’t been completely ransacked and threw some ace bandages, gauze, and triple antibiotic ointment into his stash of goods.

It was too easy. Too auspicious. He should’ve known he was pushing his luck.

Of all the places Dean was going to be attacked, it was almost poetic that it happened in a graveyard. He was making his way through, planning on setting up camp under the protection of the trees. The scent of rain was on the air, and he wanted to get the tent set up and his things inside before it started. Wet jeans were a horror to begin with, let alone wet jeans on a bicycle.

He was distracted, looking around at the graves and feeling sad that so many people would never get put to rest… people like Ben and Lisa, whose memories deserved to be something more permanent than just in Dean’s mind.

The creature was silent, moving smoothly through the overgrown grass around the back of him, pouncing on his back and taking him down. For a moment, his heart skipped a beat and his mind supplied “Lisa”. Then the pain kicked in. He screamed, twisting away from the creature, its teeth and nails digging through his right shoulder as he jerked back. The scent of his blood only drove the thing mad, blood leaking in thick rivulets out of the corners of its eyes as it growled wildly and gnashed its teeth in the air. Dean kicked out, propelling himself back a foot and knocking the thing away.

It gave him enough time to reach for his knife, but not enough to draw it.

Blunt fingernails were back digging into his shoulder and he yelled out as he drove himself into the body, slamming it back into a tall gravestone. The sickening crunch, coupled with the pain in his shoulder, was enough to have him rolling to the side and vomiting up everything he’d eaten that day.

He heaved into the grass a few times as he scrambled up onto his feet, abandoning his bike and pack to draw the knife and look around. The creature lay against the headstone, its head split open from the granite and red eyes staring listlessly back at Dean. Nothing else was around.

“Fuck,” Dean swore under his breath, taking a moment to look at his shoulder. His shirt was ripped, blood rolling down his arm and red spreading across his chest. “God fucking damn it…”

He didn’t know what this meant, not for him. Lisa hadn’t been bit, not that he knew of… the radio broadcast never actually covered how the disease was transmitted or even the process of infection. For all he knew, he was now a dead man walking, and the moment he stopped to sleep would be the end.

Tears burned in the back of his eyes and he gave himself just a moment to panic. If that’s what was going to happen, there was nothing he could do about it. But if not… He looked down again and grimaced at the fresh burst of blood seeping from his wound.

He removed his shirt and twisted it, using his good arm and his teeth to tie it tightly around the area. He needed to find a place to hunker down for the night before he opened up his first aid supplies, and he needed to get the hell out of the open.

Pitching a tent was probably out of the question, so he scanned the immediate area quickly. There was the main office for the cemetery, three trucks parked out in front of it. Further on he could see a few houses. None of them put a good feeling in his gut, so he turned some more until he saw the crypt.

If he was going to turn into some goddamn zombie, at least the crypt was a fitting place for him to die. He picked up his bag and carried it over his good shoulder, then reached down to drag the bike back up onto its wheels.

Luck, somehow, was back on his side because someone else had used the crypt as a camping spot, the lock already busted open and the remains of a fire in the center of the floor. He let himself in and pulled the metal gate shut behind him before collapsing.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean breathed out, closing his eyes as the pain in his shoulder made his head swim. He scooted backwards across the floor until he was leaning against a stone monument and dragged his bag over to him. He pulled one of his canteens free and slowly poured a steady stream of water over the wound, hissing as his flesh seemed to burn. “Shit, shit, shit…”

His shirt was already ruined, so he used the tail end that was hanging from his makeshift tourniquet to pat at the area and clean the blood from his arm. Outside, a crack of thunder boomed overhead and it was as if someone had flipped a switch on the sunlight. _Fucking perfect_.

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, and then felt around his pack for a flashlight, reaching over his head to rest it above and light up the small area.

His flesh was torn and ragged, and he sure as hell needed stitches. He gave a small laugh wondering if anyone was still running a hospital in the end of the world. Sutures simply weren’t in the cards for him, but he’d gained gauze and an ace wrap in the city so he dug those out. After a moment of hesitation, he squeezed the entire tube of antibacterial ointment into the wound bed and hissed as that, too, burned.

He swallowed down some Tylenol and managed to get the gauze rolled around his arm with the ace bandage securing it before water started to roll in from the outside. The ashes of the fire were swimming towards him slowly and he cursed as he pulled himself up onto his feet. He tossed his bag up onto the monument and climbed up on top of the stone casket. He shivered as the cold seeped into his bones and cursed himself for not putting on another damn shirt.

But he was so tired… The idea of getting back up and pulling out his clothes or the blanket made him want to cry. He would get up in a few minutes…

**Liberty, Iowa  
42.312840, -96.319535**

Dean spent two days hiding out in the crypt, keeping up with Tylenol and changing the bandage on his arm until the gauze ran out.

He knew if he didn’t move, he would end up dying there - be it _the_ infection or _an_ infection. Whenever he stood, the world around him spun and no amount of salty jerky or water was making it any better. He still had over two hundred and fifty miles to get to Bobby’s, but there was no way he could manage riding a bike that distance.

He let his mind wander to his late father, knowing exactly what John would say about the fleeting thoughts he’d had about giving up.

_“You’re a Winchester. Act like it, son.”_

Simple words, but the implication behind them was what forced Dean back onto his feet and out of the stone tomb.

The evidence of the storm was long gone, early morning heat surrounding him, though all Dean felt was cold. He shivered and repressed the urge to pull out a flannel. The trucks that he’d seen when he first came into the cemetery were still parked in their same spots and after a moment of hesitation, he made his way over to them. He slung his backpack over the handlebars of the bike and slowly walked with it to the trucks.

Although he felt like shit, he knew he would regret it if he didn't check everything. With a false start, his finger slipping from the handle, he dropped the back of the first truck and pulled himself up. There was an oversized toolbox that was unlocked and he grabbed a length of rope. The second truck bed was empty, save some grass clippings and brush. Both of the truck cabs were locked. He peeked through the tinted windows, just in case; the first truck meticulously clean and the second full of fast food burger wrappers and a large soft drink.

The last truck had a gas can in the back, unfortunately empty. The window, however, was cracked enough for him to stand on the running board to reach in and unlock the door.

He threw his bag on the passenger seat and ignored the pain in his shoulder as he bent beneath the steering column to hotwire the truck. It took a few tries, and he was almost sure the battery was dead before it worked and the vehicle finally roared to life. He even had three-quarters of a tank of gas.

Dean blew out a small sigh of relief, knowing that the four wheels would be his safety ... at least until the gas ran out and he couldn’t find more. He missed Baby, the truck nothing like the smooth ride of his girl. There was a Toby Keith CD in the player, and he couldn’t find any other music in the glove box. At least it beat the static that the radio was playing, although he took a minute to flip through the channels just in case.

He drove the truck through the cornfield back to the interstate, grateful everything was flat out here. The road was open and he resisted the urge to step on the pedal and rocket forward. No need to waste gas.

The towns he passed were all just as dead as the ones he’d walked through, and most of the exits remained barricaded, only a few had been pushed out of the way. He ignored every time he felt dizzy, ignored the heaviness behind his eyes, and cracked the window to keep himself awake. The clock on the dash read 4:45 PM and Dean wondered how accurate that actually was… there was no way he’d slept the entire morning away. He’d sworn it was only noon, at the latest, when he finally got himself into the truck…

He followed I-80 until it became I-280, then went north on I-29, effectively avoiding Omaha and whatever barricades the larger city would’ve brought for him. He could almost taste a cold beer and feel Bobby’s leather couch under his ass…

Of course, that was if his gas tank lasted. She was dangerously dipping below a quarter tank, and Dean glanced at the clock again. 6:54 PM. He cursed softly, knowing he would run out of gas and then sunlight soon after. At least he was almost at Sioux City.

In a car it would be another hour or so to get to Bobby’s but biking --

“Shit,” Dean swore, realizing he left the mountain bike back at the graveyard. He would have to set up camp somewhere for the night and then make the rest of the trip tomorrow. He slowed, moving the truck to drive down the center of the two lanes and reached for the map. The stretch pulled on his shoulder and he hissed, wondering if it would be too soon to take more pain medication.

Scanning the map, he turned off of the highway and headed towards Browns Lake. He made it halfway there when the truck sputtered to a stop and he was forced to go the rest of the way on foot. He bypassed the houses and found a small dock with a good-sized boat floating on the water. He hesitated before climbing aboard, knife drawn as he cleared under the deck. It was small, but it was better than trying to pitch a tent.

A quick search of the boat gave him a flare gun with extra flares, a few life jackets, and batteries for his flashlight. There wasn’t any food or water on board, but there were a few fishing supplies, minus the actual poles.

He slumped against the seat below deck and pulled his blanket out, ignoring the deep, heavy throb in his shoulder. Apparently, he wouldn’t be getting turned by _the_ infection, but he could tell that he wasn’t doing okay. He just needed to get to Bobby’s… If ever there was a man prepped for the end of the world, it was his Uncle Bobby. The old man was a paranoid bastard and kept stores of supplies in an underground bunker he had built into his basement. Dean just hoped Bobby would still be there when he arrived. Not that he imagined there would be anywhere else for the older man to go, but… well, the alternative wasn’t something he wanted to think about.

His stomach twisted at the idea of food, so he left his pack by the door and stretched out on his right side, curling up with the blanket. Despite everything feeling heavy, he couldn’t sleep. The swaying of the boat on the water was making him nauseous and he was glad he hadn’t forced himself to eat.

Instead, Dean was left with his thoughts. They turned back to Lisa and Ben, to the images of bodies on their own front lawns, and to the mistrust and panic in the eyes of the few people he’d run into. Hollywood wasn’t real, apocalypses weren’t real, and none of this made any sense. He tried to remember things Sam had said before the phone lines went down… if he’d known that was the last time he’d get to speak to his baby brother -

No. Sam was fucking smart and he was a Winchester, too. Dean knew that no matter what, Sam would make it, even if Dean himself did not. Sam was the one digging deep into the internet, researching the spread of the infection and the effects it was having in other countries, while Dean was grief-stricken and panicking about what to do next. No, Sam had his head on straight while Dean was just a goddamn hot mess.

“‘M sorry, Lis…” Dean whispered his nightly apology, forcing himself to shut his eyes. “Stay safe, Sammy.”

**Beresford, South Dakota  
43.228384, -96.808758**

Dean shuffled down the road, his knife held slack in his right hand, and prayed.

If he was attacked now, by a creature or another human, he didn’t think he would have the strength to fight back.

He’d woken up thirsty and drained what was left of his water, but he was still too nauseous to eat. He also couldn't move his left arm. When he peeked beneath the bandages, the skin he could see was beet red and angry, the scent from it making Dean gag.

He needed to get to Bobby’s.

The few cars he managed to pass were locked or spoken for, someone firing a shotgun in his direction as he picked up a rock to smash out one of the windows. Soon, the effort of getting over guardrails or up and down embankments made checking out the cars not worth the effort.

He knew he should’ve been dying in the heat. He could see it rising from the black tar, the horizon before him blurred by it. But he was freezing, the sweat against his back and neck cold, his body shaking.

Time seemed to stand still, everything feeling heavy. He felt as though he was running, and yet, when he turned to look he’d barely gone past the next mile marker.

“For Sammy,” he whispered to himself. Just one foot at a time…

He forced himself to keep his head down and watch his feet instead of looking at the mile markers. The backpack was what was slowing him down, that was all. He was going to be fine. He would be in Sioux Falls before nightfall.

As the sun started to set, Dean was fighting back the tears in his eyes. He was standing still in the center of the road, swaying on his feet, unable to move another inch. He had no idea where he was now, although it was likely he was somewhere in South Dakota if the “Great Faces, Great Places” sign was to be believed.

“Hey!”

Dean heard the voice in the distance, and he wasn’t sure if it was a threatening ‘hey, don’t come near me’ or a ‘hey, you’re about to get fucking eaten’. He tried to turn towards the voice, but his legs wouldn’t work, other than to buckle on him and send him sprawling onto the pavement.

The movement jarred his shoulder and he cried out in pain as spots swam in his vision before everything went black.


	2. In Fear, There is Hope

**In Fear, There is Hope**

_Fairy tales are more than true;  
Not because they tell us that dragons exist -  
But because they tell us that dragons can be defeated.  
Neil Gaiman _

**Beresford, South Dakota  
43.228384, -96.808758**

The first thing Dean was aware of was the scent of… hay? He groaned, his entire body aching as he forced himself to open his eyes. There was a dim glow coming from somewhere behind him, but he still had to blink his eyes a few times to focus. He appeared to be in some sort of barn, the hay smell confirming that assessment, but it was covered in black graffiti. There were religious shapes and symbols scribbled haphazardly all over, a countdown of some kind on the wall he could see, and an area that was suspiciously void of anything.

Dean held his breath as he turned, waiting for the pain in his shoulder to rear its head and felt… nothing. He was sore, but it wasn’t the overwhelming pain he’d been used to over the last two days. He moved his head and saw his backpack was beside him, his knife on the ground beside it. His blanket wasn’t attached and he looked down to see it covering him, and a sleeping bag he’d never seen before rolled out beneath him.

There were two metal tables to his right with various items on top that ranged from gas cans to canned goods, firewood and gardening tools. When he tipped his head back, he swore his heart froze in his chest. Despite everything being upside down, he could clearly see a man crouched down on his knees, his back to Dean.

Dean swallowed thickly and shifted, trying to keep his eyes on the man while grabbing the knife without cutting himself. The sleeping bag rustled and Dean watched as the man’s shoulders stiffened before he returned to whatever it was he was doing.

“Don’t over exert yourself,” the man said, his voice much deeper than Dean had expected. “You still need to heal, though it's nice to see you’re awake.”

Dean stared at the other’s back, keeping silent. The man hadn’t even turned around and for all Dean knew, he thought Dean had just moved in his sleep. Dean desperately needed to keep the upper hand until he figured out what the hell was going on. Slowly, he pulled the knife to his side and tried to focus on keeping his breathing slow and steady.

He had no idea how he got into this barn, nevermind who the stranger was or what he wanted. The fact that Dean still had his supplies hopefully meant that the man wasn’t a threat. _Perhaps he is waiting for me to prove whether I’m useful or not._

The man let out a sigh and Dean was proud of himself for not flinching. “There is a convex mirror in the corner. I can see you thinking from here.”

Dean held his breath as his eyes flicked over, seeing the man’s shadowed face looking right at him from the mirror’s reflection. Well, so much for having the upper hand.

“Who are you?” Dean asked, his voice sounding wrecked, and he cleared his throat, suddenly realizing how dry it was. “Where-”

“You collapsed on the interstate,” the man answered, looking away from the mirror back down to whatever was in front of him. He gathered something in his hands and stood, making his way over to Dean.

Dean’s entire body seized and he scrambled up into a sitting position, angling his back towards the table to face the man straight on. The man was wearing a long, tattered trench coat - the bottom of it tracked with mud. Though Dean’s own clothing had probably fared just the same. He had dark blue pants on and a plain white t-shirt to match. His face was streaked with dirt, too, but his expression was open and friendly. Dean stared right back at him. The man’s eyes were a striking blue despite the darkness of the barn.

The scent of what the man carried reached him and his stomach let out an embarrassingly loud growl. He was grateful for the dim lighting as he could feel his cheeks flaming. Still, he didn’t know this man from Adam. Why would some stranger willingly give up his food? Food would be increasingly difficult to come by.

“The farm we’re on had a good amount of crops left in their garden,” the man said as he lowered the bowl to the ground, his eyes never leaving Dean and his body staying at least a foot away. “No meat, but there are plenty of potatoes, so it should be filling.”

Dean narrowed his eyes and reached forward, grabbing the bowl quickly before he could change his mind.

“Not from a can?”

“No,” the man answered, walking a few steps backwards before turning and bending down again. He came back with his own bowl and sat a few feet away from Dean. “I’m not the best cook, but it's edible.”

Silence stretched out between them. The stranger took a few bites before Dean decided if he was meant to be dead, he would be by now. Dean’s first tentative sip made him gasp out loud, his entire body warming from the hot broth. It was good, no matter how modest the other man wanted to be. Or perhaps it was just that it had been a week since Dean had some real cooking.

“Sorry for passing out on you yesterday, I guess,” Dean said, lifting the bowl to his lips to drain the rest of the broth. The man cocked his head to the side, a look of confusion flitting across his face.

“You’ve been in and out of consciousness for four days now, going on five.”

“What?” Dean stared back at him. There was no way…

“The wound on your shoulder was quite infected. It took me a day and a half just to break your fever. Thankfully, you didn’t fight much when I went to dress the wound or to take medication, but for a while I honestly wasn’t sure-” The man stopped mid-sentence and shook his head, looking back down into his bowl. “I wish we had some bread.”

The last comment was what got Dean. As if breaking bread in a barn in the middle of freaking _nowhere _during a goddamn apocalypse was just a normal goddamn Tuesday. Dean burst out laughing, nearly dropping the bowl in his hands as tears sprung to his eyes.__

__“Are you quite alright?” the man asked in alarm, setting his bowl down and quickly moving to Dean’s side._ _

__“I just… bread. Yes, bread would be good with this.”_ _

__Satisfied, the man sat back down and nodded, watching Dean carefully._ _

__“I… weren’t you scared, taking me in? After you saw the wound, I mean. Weren’t you afraid I would become…. Well, you know.”_ _

__“No.” The answer was quick and with so much surety that Dean raised a brow. Hell, even though it had been a few days, _he_ wasn’t even sure if every time he closed his eyes would be the last. “ _Exanimus Humanus_ has very specific signs before the -”_ _

__“Excuse me, what?” Dean interrupted, blinking his eyes a few times. He felt awake, especially after the soup, but he just wasn’t comprehending._ _

__The man laughed and shook his head. “We should probably start at the beginning… I am Castiel Novak, a doctor from Chicago.”_ _

__“Uh, I’m Dean Winchester, a classic car mechanic from Cicero.”_ _

__Castiel smiled at him and leaned forward, holding out a hand for Dean to shake. “Nice to meet you,” Castiel said warmly and Dean found himself smiling back. “So, I have a brother in DC who works for the CDC as one of their lead epidemiologists. The little I know about this pandemic came from my brother’s panicked calls before the cell phone towers were shut down._ _

__“The city quickly became overrun after that, and I admit, I wasn’t all that keen on staying around the larger populated areas. The hospital I worked at was not operating smoothly and we were becoming a hot zone for people to become infected. We weren’t helping anyone or anything. While I admit that it was a cowardly move, I chose to leave the city. I found this area quiet enough to settle into while I tried to figure out what my next move should be.”_ _

__Dean blinked at him and reached above his head to settle the bowl onto the table._ _

__“Wow, well, I guess I should be lucky that I just happened to pass out in front of a doctor, then,” he said after a moment, looking over Castiel carefully. Although he’d already noticed his clothing was tattered and dirty, looking at them better, he could tell they were expensive. The man sat still underneath Dean’s scrutiny, like he was used to being at the center of attention. He was calm and collected, despite everything around them saying they shouldn’t be._ _

__Dean looked down at his shoulder and for the first time realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt. The bandages on his arm were crisp and white, taped at the top with a neat printed date on them. Dean snorted at it. Some habits were apparently too hard to break._ _

__“Where did my shirt go?”_ _

__“It’s hanging outside on the clothes line,” Castiel answered. “I have a trough around the back of the barn that gets enough water when it rains to wash. I let the rest of your clothing be after I saw there were no other injuries.”_ _

__Dean tried not to unpack that sentence too much and just nodded. “Well, thank you,” he said after a moment and pulled his legs in, crossing them beneath him._ _

__Castiel nodded and placed his empty bowl of soup to the side. “To answer your earlier question… No, I wasn’t afraid you were going to turn.”_ _

__“Yeah, the Harry Potter spell you said earlier,” Dean offered, receiving a small smile._ _

__“ _Exanimus Humanus_ loosely translates to ‘Lifeless Human’. It’s their species,” Castiel explained and gave a small shrug at Dean’s look. “They didn’t have much time to come up with a name, and you have to admit, it is accurate.”_ _

__“I don’t know,” Dean replied as he looked down at his lap, reaching to pick at a string at the edge of his blanket. “The two that I came across weren’t very lifeless at all…”_ _

__Castiel cleared his throat and looked away and Dean was tempted to ask him what he’d seen, if he’d lost anyone like Dean had. He opened his mouth before he could think better of it, but Castiel started talking again._ _

__“The virus has an incubation period,” he started, reaching for his bowl and then waving his hand for Dean’s. “It lasts anywhere from twenty-four to seventy-two hours, as far as Gabriel knew from the research they’d been able to conduct. During that time the victim is still human. They’re able to function as they normally did but are slowly getting sicker. It’s during this incubation period that they can infect others around them, they think only through a bite, something with the saliva mixing with the blood stream.”_ _

__“But… I think I was bit,” Dean said as he looked down at his shoulder. “It happened so fucking fast man, but I’m pretty sure there were teeth involved.”_ _

__“It doesn’t matter,” Castiel answered, shaking his head. “The incubation period officially ends when the heart stops and they cease to hold onto any humanity. They become primal, focusing on the kill only. They aren’t aiming to infect or spread the virus, they’re aiming to feed.”_ _

__Dean fell silent thinking back. It had been almost six weeks and that thought alone made his stomach twist violently. Six weeks. A month and a half and his entire world, everyone’s entire world, was flipped upside down._ _

__“Lis-” Dean’s voice cracked and he coughed, staring back at the blanket. “My, uh, girlfriend, Lisa. She… changed. She was complaining about a headache a day or two before but… it didn’t seem like anything. Work was stressful, you know? And then… well.”_ _

__Castiel waited a moment before giving Dean a small smile and standing up. “I’m going to wash these,” he said as he moved over to where the soft light was coming from. Dean didn’t know if he was grateful for the change of subject or not, but something told him if he wanted to continue, Castiel would listen._ _

__“Need help?” Dean asked as he pushed off the ground. He felt a little dizzy for a moment and looked up to see Castiel watching him carefully. “I’m good, just got up too fast.”_ _

__“Canteens are hanging over there.” Castiel pointed and the order was clear. Dean walked to where he directed and looked around the barn. Over where the light was coming from, Castiel had built a fire pit, the fire contained in a backyard metal pit. Dean glanced up and saw there was a small window near the roof that was propped open for ventilation._ _

__There was another sleeping area pressed against the wall, if that’s what a single blanket and rolled up sweatshirt could be called. Realization hit him and he asked, “Did you give me your only sleeping bag?”_ _

__Castiel looked up from where he was putting a corn pot onto the open flame. “You were the one who was sick, Dean.”_ _

__Dean grabbed both canteens and gave a small smile. “I… thank you.” He handed Castiel one of the canteens as he sat on the ground beside him, glad he still wasn’t wearing a shirt as the heat from the fire was almost unbearable. “For everything, really. You didn’t have to save my life or share your -”_ _

__“Yes, I did,” Castiel interrupted, giving him a sharp look. He accepted the canteen and took a long draw from it before setting it aside. “The world is different, but _I_ am not. And I am going to hold on to my own humanity and sanity to my last breath.” _ _

__They sat in silence, Dean watching as Castiel washed their dishes once the water was hot enough and dumped the dirty water outside of the barn, coming back with another log. Dean realized that the other man probably hadn’t slept very much - not if he was keeping the fire going at all times. The pit wasn’t large enough to add more than a good sized piece of wood at a time. The yawn Castiel tried to stifle told Dean all he needed to know._ _

__“Why don’t you get some sleep?” he offered. “I can keep the fire going, keep watch for a while.”_ _

__“You’re still healing, Dean. You need your rest more than I do,” Castiel argued, but it fell short when another yawn ripped through him._ _

__“Right, well, I’m pretty sure I’ve been sleeping for almost a week. I couldn’t go back to sleep right now if I tried. So you should catch up while you can.”_ _

__Dean saw the hesitation on his face and it suddenly hit him. “I will still be here when you wake up.”_ _

__The other man looked grateful for a moment, then nodded. “There is a stack of firewood to the left of the barn, just be careful… I’ve found a few nails. If anything happens, I’m a light sleeper, so just wake me up.”_ _

__“Got it. Now, go to sleep.” Dean gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile and stood, going back over to his own sleeping spot to pull the sleeping bag free. Castiel nodded his thanks and Dean took a spot a little further away from the fire and got comfortable on the floor._ _

__“There’s some books,” Castiel said as he laid down, pulling the blanket over his shoulders and facing the wall. “On the table where the food is.”_ _

__With that, Castiel’s breathing evened out and the man was fast asleep. Dean smiled and stood again, finding a few beat up books on the table. He wondered if they were Castiel’s own or if he’d found them in the barn. He picked up _The Hobbit_ and returned to his spot on the floor. _ _

__Despite not knowing Castiel, or even where the hell he was, Dean hadn’t felt this safe or comfortable in weeks. He wondered if it was foolish to let his guard down… if he should be checking the perimeter or planning an escape. He held the book in his lap but didn’t open the cover, instead he found his gaze traveling over to the steady rise and fall of his rescuer’s shoulders. He trusted this man, whether it was stupid or not._ _

__With that final thought as a reassurance, Dean opened up the novel and began reading, taking temporary solace in, _‘In a hole in the ground there lived a Hobbit.’__ _

__\--_ _

__Four days passed, the pair of unlikely allies - “Dude, I’m just a mechanic. You save _lives_ ” “I don’t know, Dean. I am quite fond of my mechanic, I would practically _die_ without my car” “Shut up, Cas.” - getting to know one another. But Dean was getting antsy. The barn was seemingly in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by acres of fields of farmland. The reprieve of safety was not something Dean was taking for granted, but he needed to move on. _ _

__The idea of simply leaving Castiel didn’t sit right with him at all. But how was he supposed to broach the subject? How was he supposed to ask a man to risk his entire life for some dude he’d met half dead in the road a week ago?_ _

__“My Uncle Bobby,” Dean started, handing over a can of tuna to Cas who was cooking over their fire, “lives a little North of here in Sioux Falls…”_ _

__“Oh?” Castiel asked, throwing him a look as he used a pocket knife to open the can. “Is that where you were heading?”_ _

__Dean nodded, watching Castiel mix the tuna in with the pasta. He swore it would taste okay, but Dean held some reservations. There wasn’t any sauce, no cheese, and tuna was definitely not his cup of tea. He reminded himself that he couldn’t afford to be picky, not anymore._ _

__“Sammy was in Cali at school… That’s where he would head if…” Dean trailed off, Castiel understanding the unspoken. _If Sam was still alive.__ _

__“Alright,” Castiel said as he knocked the wooden spoon on the side of the pot, reaching for the beat up towel he used as a pot holder. He picked up the cooking pot and scooped two servings, handing Dean a bowl. “We should probably wait until the morning to set out. If we arrive at your Uncle’s house in the dark, he might assume the worst.”_ _

__Dean blinked, staring at Castiel over his bowl. “Wait, we? You’re going to come with me?”_ _

__Castiel flushed red and looked away quickly. “Oh, I just assumed… that was probably presumptuous, if you don’t want me -”_ _

__“No! No, I do. I just wasn’t sure how to ask.”_ _

__Castiel gave him a small smile and handed over a fork. “Well, you don’t have to ask. Although this barn has been an escape from reality, it was never going to be a long-term solution. I just wasn’t sure what my plan was going to be. I… I still am not sure what the next week will bring, nevermind the next month or year, but… I would like to accompany you.”_ _

__Dean chuckled and shook his head, tentatively taking a bite. Of course, the fucker was right, and the pasta dish he’d made was not half bad. “Good,” Dean answered simply._ _

__By the time they finished eating and washed the dishes side by side, Castiel was up and taking inventory of their supplies. “I’m not sure if it's smart for us to bring the cooking pot…”_ _

__“Most of the food is in cans,” Dean answered with a shrug. “We can cook in the tin and use it as bowls. We can clean a few of the larger ones out and bring those instead of the bowls.”_ _

__“True,” Castiel said absently and moved a few things around his two piles - one for bring, one for stay. Dean offered to help, but quickly realized he was only getting in the way. He offered to wash their clothing instead and now had everything strung up near the fire so it would all be dry by the morning._ _

__“The Lifeless… they’re basically zombies, if you think about it. I guess the orange assclown was right about that.” Castiel gave a small snort and Dean smiled. They’d had a few in-depth conversations over the past couple of days on how neither one of them was impressed with the President. “At least they don’t eat brains.”_ _

__“True, that would be a much more painful death, to be honest. Human hands are not meant to pull open cranial bone and so they would have to resort to smashing one’s head against a hard surface repeatedly, much like an ape would -”_ _

__“Dude.”_ _

__Castiel looked up and Dean started laughing. “Was that too much?”_ _

__“I mean,” Dean said with a shrug, holding onto his stomach as he laughed harder at the look on Cas’ face, “I don’t know if anything can be considered ‘too much’ anymore.”_ _

__“Well it is true…”_ _

__“This is the real reason I’m keeping you around,” Dean said with a chuckle. “Comedic relief.”_ _

__“If you’re not laughing you’re crying,” Castiel replied, deadpan, and it made Dean laugh even harder._ _

__

__

__**Sioux Falls, South Dakota  
43.573810, -96.709186** _ _

__Traveling I-29 was, thankfully, uneventful. They started out early, and had found a well a little away from their barn where they filled their canteens. Castiel was strangely gifted at spotting wild plants that were edible, whereas Dean only knew he could eat it if it grew itself in a garden._ _

__They made a steady pace, stopping only when they needed to relieve themselves or grab a quick snack on some vegetables, and had been steadily moving for almost eight hours. Now, the city was ahead of them and they stopped without speaking. This city was going to be much different than the interstate and farmlands were. Dean could already see the metal gate surrounding the majority of the city glinting in the sunlight, behind the armored vehicle blocking the road just ahead. Dean glanced over at Castiel who was looking around the gate._ _

__"What are you looking for?” Dean asked after a moment when Castiel cocked his head to the side._ _

__“It's the same type of gate Chicago had,” he answered, as if that in itself was enough to give Dean clarity._ _

__“Okay, and...” Dean prompted when Castiel neglected to elaborate._ _

__The other man glanced over at him and gave a sheepish smile. “Sorry, just I know in Chicago, each of the main entrances - or the ones where the interstates entered the city, were the main entrances for the military. I was looking for - there!”_ _

__He pointed and Dean squinted against the sunlight in the direction. To the left, behind a wall of sandbags, was an outcropping of fencing that looked different._ _

__“There’s a checkpoint there, though I doubt it's being monitored anymore, and the gate is easier to bypass. Come on.”_ _

__Dean nodded and adjusted the backpack on his shoulders, following Castiel as he climbed over the concrete medium that separated North and South roadways. They moved down into the grassy ditch on the opposite side of the highway, not wanting to walk down the center of the road in the open - just in case._ _

__It was eerie. Dean had been to Sioux Falls a million times, and he knew it like the back of his hand. After their father’s heart attack when Dean was fifteen, Sammy eleven, they’d moved up to live with Bobby instead of just spending summers there. It was Bobby that encouraged him to pursue classic restoration as much as he encouraged Sam to go to law school. Hell, they could have wanted to work at McDonalds and Uncle Bobby would’ve had their back._ _

__The Sioux Falls of his childhood was constantly moving, the sounds of traffic intermingling with the sounds of people moving around their day to day business. But standing outside of the metal gate now, the city was silent. It made Dean shiver, and for the first time, something cold settled in his veins._ _

___What if Bobby isn’t here? What if he is here, but isn’t Bobby anymore?_ _ _

__Dean had no idea what to expect, and he was relieved when Castiel took the lead. The outcropping of the gate was a small metal box, and the outside door was unlocked. There were a series of locks on the door into the city, but Castiel looked around the small area and found a metal, fireproof box. There was a simple brass key lock that was demolished with a single stomp of Castiel’s boot, and inside was a key ring that Castiel picked up and shook out, finding the keys he needed with ease._ _

__“How...?” Dean asked as Castiel pushed open the second door, holding it open for Dean to move past him._ _

__“I was in a relationship with someone in the National Guard,” Castiel answered, tossing the keys back towards the lockbox, turning away as they slammed against the edge and fell clinking onto the dirt. “He told me how the gates worked and how to get in and out if I needed to. He… he knew that the cities were not going to last, that’s not why they were deployed there. The cities are for containment which is why-”_ _

__“I know,” Dean said softly. “We need to be careful.” Dean took his spot beside Castiel again and they started walking away from the gate. “I’m sorry,” Dean whispered, glancing to the side to meet Cas’ eyes. “I lost someone too, I… I’m just sorry.”_ _

__“Me too,” Castiel answered, giving Dean a soft smile. “You too.”_ _

__They made their way along the side of the interstate, walking at a much more reserved pace. The area they were in wasn’t residential, but they both drew their knives and had them at the ready as they walked side by side. Somehow, just having Castiel beside him made Dean feel a million times better than he had moving through cities on his own._ _

__As they moved towards a residential area, starting with Misty Glen Mobile Home Park, Dean reached out and stopped Castiel with a touch to his arm. Ahead of them, plastered on a large billboard, was “SAFE HAVEN - JOE FOSS FIELD”._ _

__Castiel shook his head, not understanding, and looked over at Dean. “It’s the airport,” Dean explained. “And right across from Bobby’s place.”_ _

__“Oh,” Castiel answered, looking back up at the sign. “Do you think your uncle and brother are there?”_ _

__Dean snorted good naturedly and shook his head. “No, not unless he was desperate. Bobby will give you the shirt off his back, as long as you leave afterwards. He’s not the biggest people-person and he likes his space. Crowding into an airport with the rest of the city's survivors will never be his thing. And Sam, well, he wouldn’t leave Bobby alone.”_ _

__“Plus, its home,” Castiel said softly and Dean nodded._ _

__Dean snorted as he shook his head at the sign. “It’s like Terminus, but it makes more sense because it's in an _actual_ terminal.” He gave another dry laugh but Castiel just looked at him like he was crazy. “What? Terminus. You know, The Walking Dead? Where the cannibals were?”_ _

__Castiel just slowly shook his head, looking even more confused as Dean continued trying to explain. “Oh come on, man! That show was the best. I mean, the zombies kind of sucked, and now I really know how much that sucks, but…” he trailed off and gave a dramatic sigh._ _

__“I didn’t get to watch that much TV…” Castiel said slowly, as if that would make his complete lack of pop culture better._ _

__“Come on,” Dean said, giving him an out. He let them down a side road, moving them beneath the interstate. “If we go around this way, we should be able to avoid most of the neighborhoods… there’s a couple apartment buildings around but… who knows, maybe everyone did take shelter at the airport.”_ _

__“Everyone who was alive,” Castiel offered helpfully and Dean rolled his eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was run into one of the Lifeless, despite having Castiel with him to watch his six. Castiel had done magic cleaning the wound and had made sure Dean was taking the antibiotics he’d been lucky enough to find. Dean still had sutures in place, but Tylenol kept his pain under control, and he would use the arm if he had to._ _

__As they moved past a chapel, a loud bang made both of them jump and spin in the direction. Dean couldn’t see anything… but then the sound came again and he looked closer at the church in front of them. The main doors were closed and there was thick plywood nailed across them, keeping them shut. Another bang and they watched as the door shook in place._ _

__“Do you think-”_ _

__“No,” Castiel answered, grabbing Dean’s arm and pulling him back down the road. “That won’t hold forever. I highly doubt they nailed humans inside of the church, and I would rather not be here when that board fails.”_ _

__Dean nodded, walking backwards with Castiel until he made himself tear his eyes away from the church. The Lifeless were like animals, trapped and angry. They had no drive other than to find their prey, and Dean knew it would be bad news if he and Castiel were in the line of sight when it, or they, escaped._ _

__“We’re coming up onto a resident-” The remainder of the sentence died in his throat as he stumbled to a stop, Castiel nearly slamming into him. They could see the start of another neighborhood, townhouses and condos sprouting up from overgrown grass, but it was the road itself that stopped Dean in his tracks._ _

__There were bodies upon bodies, half wrapped in stained sheets, the scent of decomposing flesh suddenly hitting him like a freight train. He could see movement around the bodies and was sure if he listened hard enough he could hear the flies. On the far side of the pile, the bodies and sheets were scorched black, as if someone had tried to burn them, but rain, wind, or time had ended the task before it was completed._ _

__“Dean,” Castiel whispered, as if talking normally would disturb the dead. _Maybe it would._ “Dean, come on. We need to keep moving.” Castiel wrapped a large hand around Dean’s good arm and started walking again._ _

__Dean allowed himself to be pulled along, but couldn’t tear his eyes away. There had to be at least a thousand bodies, stacked four or five high in most places, and they took up the entire street. Castiel was trying as best as he could to drag them by quickly, keeping a firm grip on Dean so he would keep moving. _How many of them did I know?_ _ _

__“Dean, come on, Bobby isn’t there, okay?” Castiel was trying to soothe him, and only then did he realize he was speaking._ _

__“I need to check-”_ _

__“No,” Castiel argued, dragging him down another road. “We need to get to your Uncle’s house. If he’s not there, we’ll evaluate again, okay?” He waited for Dean to nod and then blew out a small sigh. “Okay, now, are we close?”_ _

__Dean took a deep breath and closed his eyes, making himself focus. When he opened them again he looked around. “We’re close to the University and Sanford Medical, a few blocks after that is North End West, and the airport is after that.”_ _

__Castiel nodded and pulled one of the canteens free, taking a large swallow before passing it over to Dean. Dean had just lifted the canteen to his mouth when a rock clattered to the ground at their feet. Dean jumped back, looking down as Castiel spun around._ _

__“Over here!” they heard someone hiss and Castiel froze, his eyes narrowing. “Yellow house!”_ _

__Dean pointed, the curtain fluttering despite there being no breeze, and together they walked slowly up the driveway._ _

__“Hurry up, inside!” the voice said through the cracked window. Dean glanced at Castiel and shook his head._ _

__“Yeah, I don’t think so. Why don’t you show yourself?”_ _

__There was a fumbling sound and the curtain pulled back further, exposing a middle-aged woman with short cropped dark hair. She sighed and pushed the window open more, leaning towards the screen._ _

__“Listen, patrol is coming through and they don’t take too kindly to strangers. So take your chances out there, or get your asses in here.” She gave them a pointed look, then moved to slam the window shut. Then she bent back down and added, “Keep your weapons if you want, the door’s unlocked.”_ _

__“Your choice,” Castiel said with a shrug. “We’re armed and it's two against one.”_ _

__“That we know of,” Dean muttered, but he couldn’t deny his curiosity as to what the ‘patrol’ was. “Got my back?”_ _

__“Always,” Castiel answered, taking a step back before the two of them walked up the rest of the driveway to the front door. Dean blew out a slow breath and opened the door, stepping in and immediately turning to the left, Castiel following him to the right._ _

__The house was simple but homely, definitely a family that lived here. It smelled clean but was dark, most likely from the heavy curtains that were drawn over every window. Slowly, Dean reached behind himself and shoved the door shut._ _

__“Lock it please,” the woman said from the other room. Dean obliged and then nodded to Castiel, letting him take the lead into the room to the right. It was a living room, the woman sitting on a large, dark couch, her eyes narrowed as she looked over them._ _

__“What's this patrol?” Castiel asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Dean stood still behind him, listening. It didn’t appear like there was anyone else in the house, but he wasn’t going to let his guard down._ _

__“The Sioux Militia. When the military moved in and tried to enforce checks and curfews, a group of individuals banded together and overtook the guard we had here. They’ve claimed the military’s weapons and supplies and have taken over the high school as their base.” She spoke carefully, her eyes flicking back and forth between them, but what she was looking for, Dean couldn’t tell._ _

__“They have rounded up the survivors with the cover of ‘protecting’ and ‘assisting’ the people of Sioux Falls. However, they charge a ridiculous tax of food and supplies, and the people who are now living at the airport are suffering. If you have a skill of some sort, be it engineering, medicine, plumbing or carpentry… anything they deem useful, you’re forced to join them and are given special quarters in the high school.”_ _

__“But there are people who are resisting,” Dean suggested, looking at the woman again. Despite the dim light of the room, he could see a blossoming bruise traveling down the side of her throat and a greenish tinge to her left eye._ _

__“I was the Sheriff,” she answered. “My job was actually to protect the people of Sioux Falls, and despite the world having changed? I still take that job seriously. I do what I can to establish people in safe houses, make sure they’re able to get supplies or help them get out of the city. A few officers have my back but…”_ _

__“Most of your force joined the militia,” Castiel guessed, shaking his head as the Sheriff nodded._ _

__“Their time will come,” she said, straightening her shoulders. “It doesn’t matter what they do now, karma will come for them. And I will happily be the one to dish it out. That being said… if you didn’t know about the militia, that means you’re not from around here.”_ _

__Both of them shook their heads, but neither offered up any additional information. She stared at them and then gave a small laugh, shaking her head._ _

__“Well, I wouldn’t trust a stranger either. If it helps, name’s Jody.”_ _

__Dean ignored the fact that he had done just that, and that’s how he found a friend in Castiel. He cleared his throat and decided the least he could do was offer his name. “I’m Dean. This is Castiel. Thank you for-”_ _

__A sudden siren cut him off and the men jumped in alarm._ _

__“Get down!” the Sheriff hissed, spreading out on the couch. Castiel and Dean hit the floor, pressing back against the walls and out of the way of the windows. Despite the curtains being thick, a bright light shone through the fabric along with another peal of the alarm. They stayed crouched until the light and the sound of the siren moved along._ _

__“They search the neighborhoods,” the Sheriff explained, pushing herself off of the couch and peeking out of the curtain. “They have six of those trucks.The sirens are to attract the dead as well as the living.”_ _

__Dean stood slowly, peeking out of the other window to see a large armored vehicle moving down the street. A few figures were stumbling after it before pop pop was heard and their bodies dropped in a spray of blood._ _

__“The dead,” Jody whispered, letting the curtain fall back._ _

__“How are they sure they’re dead?” Dean asked, following suit and returning to Castiel’s side._ _

__“I have to believe they know,” she answered, meeting his eyes. “I can’t think of it any other way.” She made her way back over to the couch, taking a seat once more and waving a hand out to them. “I promise you, I mean you no harm. Take a load off, they’ll be doing a second round before they retire for the day.”_ _

__Dean glanced at Castiel and exchanged a look with him, both of them taking the loveseat; their backs were to the window, but they could see both entrances into the living room and Jody on the opposite couch._ _

__“So… the Sheriff, that means you know a lot of people?” Dean asked, giving her a hopeful look._ _

__“It’s a big city, Dean. But yeah, I know a lot of people.” She gave a small laugh and shook her head. “Family or a girl?”_ _

__Dean shook his head. “Family. Bobby Singer of Singer’s Salvage Yard.”_ _

__A look flitted across Jody’s face and it made Dean’s stomach plummet. “Yeah, I know Bobby,” she said softly. Dean watched as she forced a smile on her lips. “Good man. You one of his boys then?”_ _

__“What happened to Bobby?” Dean asked, leaning forward. It was only Castiel’s comforting hand on his shoulder that kept him seated._ _

__“I don’t know,” Jody whispered, looking down at the carpet between her feet. “When the militia took over, I went to Bobby. You know, of course, about his armory.”_ _

__Dean snorted. Yeah, that was an understatement. Bobby collected weapons of every kind, a portion of them for display in custom-made cabinets in the house, and the rest hidden away in the bunker for safe storage._ _

__“He was packing when I got there. His friend, Rufus, was there. He gave me the key to the yard and told me I would know when it was time but…” Jody shrugged her shoulders, shaking her head. “I was desperate when the militia started rounding people up and carting them over to the airport and I went over there, but I don’t know what he wanted me to find. He didn’t leave any instructions.”_ _

__“Can I see the keys?” Dean asked, shifting on the couch. Bobby was with Rufus, which made him feel slightly better. Having a partner made each of them safer, and he knew from his childhood that Rufus was one of the best sharpshooters. He had no idea where they would’ve gone though..._ _

__Jody nodded and stood, leaving the room from the opposite entrance. Castiel stiffened beside him, leaning into Dean’s space so he could track her movements, but she stopped just outside of the doorway and bent down to a large, tan backpack. She came back carrying a thick keyring and handed it over to Dean._ _

__Dean shuffled through them and realized quickly that these were Bobby’s personal keys. The garage and auto shop keys were first, then the key for the car compactor. There were two sets of house keys, a key to Dean and Lisa’s house, and then --_ _

__“This,” Dean said, shaking the long silver key free and holding it over to Jody. “This is the key he wanted you to have. It’s for the bunker.”_ _

__“The what?” Jody asked, looking down at the key. “I couldn’t find any door that this key fit.”_ _

__Dean just gave a small laugh and shook his head. “No, it's not easy to find. Can… can we head over there?”_ _

__“Yeah, please!” Jody said, renewed hope flashing in her eyes as she pocketed the keys. “They should do their second sweep and we can leave from here. Do you boys need anything? Food, water?”_ _

__“Bobby’ll have everything we need,” Dean answered, giving Jody a small smile of thanks._ _

__“Alright, well, settle in. We’ll head out soon.”_ _


	3. If The Whiskey Don’t Kill Me

**If The Whiskey Don’t Kill Me**

_“It takes great courage  
to see the world  
in all its tainted glory,   
and still to love it.”  
Oscar Wilde_

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota  
43.573810, -96.709186**

It took two hours to walk from Jody’s safehouse to Bobby’s, and Dean was relieved Jody was just as skilled of a fighter as Castiel appeared to be. Deeper into the city, they found more Lifeless wandering around, mostly in pairs or groups three. 

Dean learned quickly how to take one down. You needed to aim for the heart or the brain, although he supposed severing a head would do the job too. Just like Lisa, the eyes of every Lifeless they came across were bleeding. Black patches and streaks of dried blood showed on their clothing, and their bodies were all in various stages of disarray and decomposition. He wondered idly if complete decomposition would stop them. 

It was difficult to stab their hearts with the Lifeless usually flailing and reaching for their meals, but stabbing their brains was even harder. The human skull protected them and resulted in a painful ricochet down Dean’s arm. If anything, all he knew from taking down the handful of creatures was that he needed a better weapon. 

Castiel had a shotgun strapped to his back and he could see the pistol on Jody’s hip, but neither one of them wanted to draw unwanted attention. Where the melee fighting in the street attracted other Lifeless to them, a gunshot could mean death. Dean wondered if their hearing and other senses were better now that they’d changed. 

By the time they reached Bobby’s driveway, all three of them were breathing hard and filthy, and Dean was grateful that out of all the blood on their hands and clothes, none of it was their own. The only sound around besides their breathing was the Singer’s Salvage Yard sign creaking in the slight breeze.

“Come on,” Dean said, leading them down the driveway. He kept an eye out through the mass of cars in various stages of disrepair in case someone or something came out from between the twisted metal, but the yard was blessedly quiet. The driveway turned and split, the right fork heading towards the garage and the left to the house. 

As they approached the house, Dean scanned the area, his eyes landing on something on the siding. When his mind finally made sense of what it was he was looking at, all he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears. He didn’t realize he’d stopped moving until Castiel was in front of him, taking up his line of sight. 

“Dean, breathe,” Castiel ordered, shaking his shoulders gently. 

From by the house, Jody called, “It’s just paint!” Then softer she muttered, “Don’t know why he chose red…”

Dean blew out the breath he was holding, searching Castiel’s eyes for a moment before nodding. He was good, it was okay, though he wasn’t sure who exactly he was trying to convince.

“Come on,” Castiel repeated Dean’s words and led him to the side of the house where **_POUGHKEEPSIE_** was scrawled in thick, red car paint. This close, Dean could see the metallic flakes in it, but from back in the driveway…

“Fucking Sammy,” Dean muttered, reaching forward to wipe his fingers over the paint. It was dry and warm from the sun, and something in his stomach unclenched. 

“How do you know it’s from Sam?” Castiel asked, cocking his head and watching Jody walk up the wooden steps to the front door of the house. 

“It’s our code word,” Dean answered, pressing his hand flat against the word. Sammy was here, or _had been_ here. Either way, as far as Dean knew, his baby brother was safe, and he felt a lightness at a small weight lifting from his shoulders. He hoped Sam had found someone to travel with like he had, just as much as he hoped Castiel would be down for traveling with him to New York. There was no question now -- Dean knew where he needed to go. 

“When we were kids, we made up our own code. Poughkeepsie was one that meant danger, drop everything and run. We would say it when we were up too late, doing something we weren’t supposed to, and Dad was coming. Or when we were sneaking into school or the mall after hours, doing something stupid, and there was a guard coming.”

Castiel gave a small laugh and shook his head, walking after Dean towards the front door. “Gabriel and I had a similar word. It was ‘Fuck’.”

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes, holding the door to let Castiel inside. He took a moment, breathing in the scent of _home_. The air was slightly stale. If Bobby had left when Jody last saw him, the house had been closed up for nearly a month. The lingering scent of the herbs and spices Bobby had in various containers around the house, despite arguing they were left over from his late wife, made Dean smile. He walked further in the house, his travel companions letting him take the lead. 

Bobby had cleaned out the kitchen, the fridge and freezer empty of all perishable food. “When did you guys lose power here?” Dean asked as he let the door fall shut. 

“Pretty soon after the outbreak,” Jody answered. “Takes a lot of manpower to keep the city up and running.”

Dean nodded and started pulling open cabinets. These were all empty except the far cabinet where there were a few cans of soup and crackers. Dean was smiling as he pulled them down. “These were Sammy’s and my favorites,” he said fondly, running a thumb over the label before putting them on the counter. He would toss them in his bag later. 

The living room was empty, and the thick, wool blanket that was usually over the back of the couch was missing. It was strange not seeing his uncle sitting in his recliner or behind his desk, despite the three large bookcases that were chock full behind it looking exactly the same.

Instead of continuing downstairs, Dean went up, giving a cursory glance through Bobby’s room and the main bathroom before going to his old bedroom. It looked like he’d left it last and he sucked in a breath as he saw the two folded outfits on the end of the bed. They were outfits Lisa and Ben had left last summer when they were up for a week. Dean pointedly ignored them and turned to the medium-sized dresser. 

He crouched down and pulled the bottom drawer out, scooping the sweatshirt that was folded awkwardly over the top. Beneath it were bottles of prescription medication, medical supplies, ammunition, and a letter. 

“Oh!” Castiel said softly as he crouched beside Dean, pulling out a few of the bottles. “Doxycycline, Augmentin, Keflex, Cipro… how did he get these?” Castiel asked as he dropped them back into the drawer. 

Dean shrugged and slid his bag from his shoulders, opening the bottom pouch. With Castiel’s help, they packed the contents of the drawer. “My Uncle Bobby has his ways… he probably just broke into a pharmacy after everything started.”

Behind him, Jody snorted, but when Dean looked up she was smiling. “That sounds like your uncle.”

He hesitated before slipping the letter into his back pocket, saving it for when he was alone. He led their small group out and crossed the hallway. A quick look in Sam’s old bedroom showed that Sam had been inside, taken a few clothes, and had had a drawer of his own from their uncle. With the upstairs cleared, Dean the other back downstairs and into the basement. They stood together at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the darkness before Dean moved. Dean shuffled forward, squeezing in behind the water heater, before turning back to hold his hand out to Jody. 

She looked at him quizzically, but handed over the keys without question. Dean found the one he wanted and bent down, sliding a piece of the wall aside. He grinned at Jody’s quiet gasp, knowing how impressed he was when Bobby showed _him_ the secret door in the concrete wall the first time. His uncle was a fucking genius… 

A soft click echoed through the silence, and Dean handed the keys back over to Jody. It was going to be her base of operations, not his. She hesitated but seemed to understand, and accepted them back with a grateful nod. Exhaling slowly, Dean bent down and grabbed the handle with both hands, shifting his weight to his legs to pull the door back and expose the entrance to the bunker.

The bunker was aptly named - it was a large, round room cast out of what Dean assumed was melted down scrap metal, but he never bothered to ask. Either way, it was huge and it was hard to believe that they were beneath the kitchen right now. There were hanging lights that flickered a few times before turning on, casting everything in a bright yellow hue. Dean had done enough yardwork with his uncle to know there wasn’t a generator anywhere on the property that he had ever seen, or solar panels on the roof, and he wondered what Bobby had rigged up. Bobby was a crafty son of a bitch. 

To the left of the entrance was an old Army cot with a footlocker poised at the end of it. Dean knew there used to be MREs, survival gear, and a box of memories and pictures of his Aunt Karen. He knew without looking that Bobby would’ve emptied it before leaving. 

Hanging over the cot was a small bookshelf with books that Castiel immediately beelined to. He knew there were books on gardening, mechanics, basic survival, and medicine. Bobby collected anything that he thought would be useful at the end of the world, despite Dean laughing at him every time he gained a new book. Now, Dean was swallowing back his laughter as he wondered if they could reasonably fit and carry the texts…

To the right was Bobby’s small armory, complete with shotguns, pistols, and standard and sniper rifles. There were drawers beneath them that held ammunition and Jody was running her fingertips over them, a look of awe on her face. The next case held melee weapons, axes, swords, machetes, and spears. There were crossbows and bows with quivers of bolts and arrows hanging next to them. Dean walked over to the middle case, selecting a machete for himself and testing the weight. 

It would definitely work better than the hunting knife as far as killing the Lifeless went… he sucekd with a bow and arrow, Sam was definitely a better archer. He looked up as Castiel walked over with a few of the books, his eyes trained on the weapon in Dean’s hand. Dean laid the machete down in favor of bending down to pick up a heavy-duty rucksack from Bobby’s stash, holding it open for Castiel to situate the few books. “Go ahead,” Dean prompted when he noticed Castiel’s gaze continuing to return to a bright-blue handled katana. 

Castiel reached up to take it, holding it carefully as he withdrew it from the sheath. His eyes widened as the water-steel gleamed in the overhead lights. “He took care of these weapons. And they are high-quality,” he said softly as he tested the balance before sheathing it. 

Dean nodded, thinking of his uncle down here cleaning the guns and polishing the blades at least once a week. Dean smiled softly at the expression on his face, adding a whetstone and bottle of oil to the ruck-sack. He dropped his backpack down, emptying out the contents and swapping out some of the gear he’d collected for better quality gear Bobby had stashed in the bunker. 

Seeing what he was doing, Castiel re-sheathed the katana and emptied his own bag, the pair working silently but efficiently to repack their belongings in two of the rucksacks. They replaced their sleeping gear with high-density sleeping bags, added in hats, woolen socks, and gloves. There were packages of hand warmers, space blankets, and chlorine pills that Dean added to the bottom. 

Jody couldn’t hold back the smile that spread over her lips and she turned back to the armory wall. “We… we could have the upper hand with all of this. I mean, I’ll still need to see how many people are willing to stand against the militia, and we’ll have to organize a space of course… Do you think Bobby would’ve minded us taking over the house?”

Dean chuckled and shook his head. “No, I don’t. That’s why he cleaned most of the personal stuff out. He knew it would be inhabited again soon.”

“Do you boys want to take anything else? Here,” Jody reached into one of the drawers, pulling out some ammo and handing it up to Dean. “You should have handguns as a backup...” She trailed off as she scanned the wall, quickly selecting two .45 pistols and handing them over. Dean picked up a side holster and slid it onto his belt, before holstering one of the handguns into it. He held up both a side and a chest holster for Castiel to choose from. Castiel gave him a grateful smile and took the chest holster, sliding his arms through the straps and tightening the fit.

Dean handed over the weapon and then turned to scan the room once more, his eyes settling on a large, black trunk. When he walked over, he could feel Castiel at his back. He bent down to pop the lock, and when he opened the lid, he gasped, turning wide-eyed to Cas.

“No way,” Castiel said quickly, shaking his head. He had a smile on his lips though and Dean tried his best to mimic his brother’s puppy-dog eyes. “Dean, it's not practical to cart that thing across the country!”

“But think about the power this baby has!” Dean argued, reaching in and pulling the rocket launcher free of its case. 

Castiel gave him a look that rivaled his brother’s bitch face and Dean laughed, holding it up for Jody to see. “If you can’t get that many people on your side, you can always blow the school up.”

Jody chuckled and shook her head. “I think I’ll consider that as a last resort, but thank you. I want to try to keep as many of the humans here alive as I can, even if they’re not thinking all that clearly right now. The militia formed out of fear, after all.”

“It is only right to give them the choice to come back to a new society,” Castiel agreed. 

“Exactly! And if they prove to be foolish and selfish? Well, I am glad I have a back up plan.”

Dean smiled and rolled his eyes, turning around to put the rocket launcher back. He did, however, let his hand linger on the top of the case as he shut it. He couldn’t deny, blowing shit up would be fun. 

There were five liter plastic containers of water stacked against the third wall, directly across from the door, and a box of what Dean assumed was full of nonperishable items. When he pried the lid open, it contained dry rice, pasta, beans, and -

“Coffee!” Dean said on an exhale, reaching down and reverently pulling the oversized tin can out. “Cas, look!”

The other man laughed, taking the can from Dean’s hands and immediately walking over to the cot with their bags. Dean almost felt guilty about them taking the large, bulky can, but Castiel squashed the feeling quickly by saying, “I’m glad I won’t have to listen to you complain about not having coffee for a while.”

“With the whole can? It should last at least two weeks,” Dean agreed, beaming back at him and turning around to poke through the box. They took bags of rice and dried beans, and packets of dry soup mixes before offering the rest of the supplies to Jody and her people. 

“Are you sure?” she asked, tears pricking the corner of her eyes as she came over to look into the chest. 

“We can’t carry it all,” Dean explained with a shrug, “and you have many more mouths to feed than we do. We figure,” Dean paused and glanced at Castiel, the other man nodding that he was okay to be included, “if we pay it forward now, it will come back around to us when we need it most.”

There was a soft click as Jody swallowed hard before her arms were suddenly thrown around both of them, drawing them into a tight hug. “Thank you. Thank both of you. Bobby, too. You find him, okay?” She pulled back and patted Dean’s cheek. “That old son of a bitch is just fine, you hear me? And you find him and give him a hug from me. I… the only reason I can do this is because of him.”

“Of course,” Dean agreed, reaching up and laying his hand over hers, giving it a squeeze. “Alright, it's getting late and all of us need to clean up and eat. Cas and I will head out in the morning, but you’re welcome to stay here tonight if you want.”

“Thank you,” Jody replied and stepped back, letting Dean lead them out of the bunker. Jody locked the door behind them and they returned to the living room, dropping their bags to the side of the couch.

Bobby’s house was far enough back that Jody decided the patrol wouldn’t come down here, and Dean took that as permission to open a few of the windows to let some fresh air in. Bobby’s house had its own well instead of city water, so after the three of them searched the house to find a box of matches, Dean ran back into the basement to light the pilot of the water heater. With the last of the sun, they made sure the windows were closed tightly and that the curtains covered them completely. They didn’t need any unwanted visitors, Lifeless or Militia. 

“Uh, up in the first bedroom,” Dean spoke, clearing his throat as he looked at Jody who was lighting a single candle in the middle of the table, “there’s a set of clothes up there… jeans and a shirt. They’ll probably fit you… if you want something clean after your shower, that is.” 

“Oh! Thank you,” Jody answered with a smile. Castiel handed her the candle, following her into the living room to get two of their flashlights to bring back into the kitchen. Castiel and Dean were quiet as they listened to the creak of the floorboards overhead. When it was clear Jody was in Dean’s old bedroom, Castiel turned in his chair to eye Dean carefully.

“Lisa’s?” he guessed and Dean nodded, turning away from him and pulling the cans of soup over. 

“It's no big deal,” Dean mumbled with his back still turned. “It's not like Lisa is going to need them…”

“Right,” Castiel replied softly, the chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it back and stood. “I’m going to go find some more candles.”

The plumbing in the house groaned its displeasure at being used after so long and Dean looked up at the ceiling, listening as Jody moved around the small bathroom upstairs. He was grateful for the moment alone, allowing him a moment to collect his thoughts. Dean blew out a slow breath as he tasked himself with finding a handheld can opener, making a mental note to add it to his bag. 

Dean was calmer when Castiel came back in carrying a lantern and a bunch of candles, Jody on his heels with a towel wrapped around her hair and piled up on her head. He handed off the lantern and took the candle, taking his turn in the shower. 

“Guess what else I found upstairs?” Jody said with a wink, pulling a bottle of whiskey out from behind her back and putting it down on the table. 

Dean shook the sadness of missing Lisa away and smiled wide at the bottle, shaking his head. “Let me guess… under the pillow?” 

“You got it!” Jody laughed as she passed Dean to reach into the cabinet for three glasses. For good measure, she pulled out three bowls and set the table with a dish towel in the center for them to wipe their hands if they needed it. 

Dean chuckled as he watched her light the candles Castiel found, making a comment about how ‘romantic it was’ and worked on preparing their soup. He swapped places with Castiel to take his shower, stopping to grab a clean set of clothes from his bag. 

After washing himself, he filled the tub with what was left of the hot water and threw all of their clothes in. Castiel must’ve had the same idea, for there was a jug of Gain laundry detergent sitting on the counter with another flickering candle. He poured a capful in the water and began to wash the clothes, jumping as he felt someone kneel beside him. 

“Dinner’s ready,” Jody said, giving him a small smile as she reached in to help him scrub the clothes. They worked quickly but efficiently, Jody emptying and refilling the tub with cold water twice before the water was clear. By the time they had rung out the clothes and had them hanging on the shower curtain rod, Castiel had made his way up the stairs and was standing at the doorway watching them. 

“You could fix my car _and_ you do laundry,” Castiel quipped, earning himself a half-hearted glare as Dean picked up the candle and motioned for Jody to lead them downstairs. 

Castiel had plated up the saltines as if they were the best french bread rounds, the plate sitting in the center of the table beside the candles. Dean took the pot of soup simmering on the back burner and served them up the meal. As they crowded in around the small table, Dean felt himself finally relaxing back into the chair.

The food and company were good, but it was probably the whiskey that had Dean nearly crying with laughter as Castiel told different stories of his residency. Jody chimed in with the weirdest calls she’d gotten and the craziest arrests she’d made. Dean flushed at her pointed look as he knew he very easily could’ve been arrested by Jody when he and Sam first moved there. Dean changed pace, talking about his Impala and the other cars he’d been working on restoring. Both Castiel and Jody looked wistful as he talked about the ‘63 Chevy Coupe and ‘64 Ford Thunderbird he’d been working on. 

They finished the entire bottle of whiskey and Castiel made the executive decision that they should all drink a glass of water before heading to bed. He stood up, nearly falling over into Dean’s lap as he tripped over the table leg, sending the three of them into a fit of giggles. 

“Do you need help?” Dean asked Jody as she stood, hoping that she wouldn’t, but willing to get up from the table if she did. Dean had offered her his bedroom - the bed was bigger than Sam’s, which was weird since Sammy was basically a goddamn _giant_ \- and none of them felt comfortable taking Bobby’s bed. 

“No, no… I’m good,” Jody answered, leading herself to the stairs with the help of the wall. Castiel called her name, stopping her, and handed her the lantern they’d been using in the kitchen.

“Dean and I have flashlights, and I found more batteries in Bobby’s desk.”

She nodded at him gratefully before making her way upstairs, the lantern swaying with her stumbling steps and making Dean slightly nauseous as he watched it. Dean snorted, rolling his head back to look at Cas upside down. 

“I’m taking the couch,” he slurred, wincing as his neck cricked. “You can have Sammy’s room, if you want.”

“No,” Cas shook his head and stumbled out of the kitchen, heading towards their bags. Dean forced himself out of the wooden chair and followed him, watching as he slowly laid out the sleeping bag on the floor next to the couch.

“You gonna sleep here?” Dean asked, nearly falling over as Castiel chucked Dean’s blanket at him.

“We have to keep watch. There’s a woman upstairs to protect,” Castiel said, his face stony and serious. Dean raised a brow and Castiel gave a gummy grin, collapsing back against the sleeping bag as he started laughing. “That was funny. As if Jody couldn’t kick _both_ our asses.”

“Blindfolded,” Dean added, stepping over Castiel to fall onto the couch. He pulled a pillow free and dropped it down, Castiel spluttering as it nailed him in the face. 

“And drunk.”

Dean chuckled and threw an arm over his head, trying to settle comfortably into the cushions. Silence fell over the house as full dark descended, the crickets coming out to sing their song into the night. Dean blew out a slow breath, feeling his entire body relax. He thought the barn had been comfortable… but there was nothing like home.

The only thing missing was Bobby’s gentle snoring and the humming from the central air. Dean shifted on his side, scooping the pillow with his arm and getting it comfortable under his head. He felt as if someone was watching him and his heart skipped a beat as he opened his eyes. 

“Are you… staring at me?” Dean asked, meeting Castiel’s gaze from the floor. 

The other man gave a small shrug, jamming his eyes shut as if Dean hadn’t seen him staring. “No,” Castiel replied, his voice deeper than usual. Then he gave a small laugh and opened one of his eyes, peering up at Dean again. “Maybe. I just… can’t sleep yet.”

“Dude, it’s been like two minutes. You haven’t even tried.” But Dean smiled, understanding what Cas meant. His own brain wasn’t shutting off easily… 

“Hmm,” Castiel agreed, then gave a soft smile. “You know… you have a very pretty face. It’s very… symmetrical.”

“Dude,” Dean snorted, raising a brow, “you’re so drunk.”

“Accurate,” Castiel grumbled back and flopped over onto his back. 

Dean watched him for a moment, then smiled and shut his own eyes. 

**Magnolia, Minnesota  
43.644876, -96.097741**

Dean glanced over at Castiel for what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour. The morning had been a little bit of a rush with repacking their bags, making sure their canteens were full and everything was split evenly as far as weight went. They sat and enjoyed breakfast together before they said goodbye to Jody and wished her luck. Dean took a moment to say goodbye to his childhood home; he knew he would never be back.

Moving through the rest of Sioux Falls, finding their way to the interstate and Castiel getting them through the East Gate, was almost… perfunctory. At first, Dean thought the other man was simply hung over, but they’d both had some Advil and a few glasses of water before they repacked their clean clothes and set out. And Dean was sure Castiel would have complained about it at least once by now. No, there was something else…

Dean cleared his throat, glancing over to see if he’d gained Castiel’s attention. Castiel was walking beside Dean, but he wasn’t _with_ Dean at all. Hell, Dean was half convinced that if he simply stopped, Castiel would continue putting one foot in front of the other, leaving Dean to run after him. 

“Cas,” Dean said, reaching over to grab his arm. Castiel nearly jumped a foot in the air, spinning towards Dean with wide eyes, his hand going to his katana. “No, it's okay!” Dean said quickly, releasing his arm and holding up his own hands. “No danger, promise.”

“Jesus, Dean,” Castiel breathed out, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “You scared me.”

“What’s going on with you?” Dean asked, moving to stand in front of Castiel as he moved to continue walking. “Come on, talk to me. You’ve hardly said two words to me all day.”

“We talked all morning,” Castiel replied, looking confused. “We planned our route and said goodbye to Jody…”

“And ever since we hit the road you’ve been completely silent. So dude, come on. What's wrong?”

Castiel stayed quiet for a moment before suddenly spinning around on his heel, reaching up to pull at his hair in frustration. Dean stayed where he was but stared after Cas as he walked a few steps away before spinning and coming back. As long as Dean had known him, albeit, not very long, Castiel was always cool, calm, and collected. To see him like this was both terrifying and reassuring.

“Cas,” Dean said softly, hoping to draw Castiel back over. 

“I can’t do it,” Castiel said suddenly, his outburst making Dean draw back. “I thought I could, but I _can’t_. I’ve been… anxious since we left this morning. I don’t know if I’m going to start laughing or crying and I just…” Castiel gave a small laugh, pulling at his hair again. “I can’t do it, Dean.” 

Dean swallowed thickly, nodding his head. “Okay,” he whispered, trying to ignore the twist of his heart. Dean was going to do this, no matter what, but he hadn’t realized how much he’d considered Castiel and him a _them_ , Castiel his traveling partner. The idea of going on alone made him cold, but the idea of begging or forcing Castiel made it even worse. “You don’t have to-”

“I know it will take longer… and I know you want to get to New York as soon as possible, but if we really hustle it will only add... another day, maybe? We’ll have to go further South, of course, unless…”

“Wait,” Dean interrupted, shaking his head. “What? You’re not… turning around?”

“What?” Castiel replied, finally stopping and jerking his head up to meet Dean’s eyes. “Why would I turn around?” 

Dean stared back at him for a moment. “I don’t know how else I was supposed to interpret ‘I can’t do it’. I assumed that was you saying you don’t want to come with me to New York. That you want to, I don’t know, go back and help Jody or go back to the barn or something.” Dean gave a small shrug, the back of his neck heating up under Castiel’s disbelieving gaze. 

“No, Dean! Why would I want to separate from you? What I meant was I can’t… I can’t go back through Chicago.” Castiel shivered, looking down. “Sioux Falls was pretty bad, but Chicago was worse. It… my friends, coworkers… my b-,” he stopped again and shook his head. “I just can’t go back through there, Dean.”

Dean blinked a few times, then suddenly found himself laughing. Despite the deeply offended look on Castiel’s face, he couldn’t _stop_. The complete relief he felt was overwhelming. Castiel was thankfully patient, waiting until Dean caught his breath before rolling his eyes and punching Dean’s shoulder. 

“Are you quite finished?” Castiel asked, crossing his arms over his chest as Dean nodded his head. 

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry… I wasn’t laughing at you, I promise. I just… I’m glad that you still want to go with me.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and tugged on Dean’s arm, leading them over to the side of the road. He crouched down and tugged his pack free, easily finding their map on top and pulling it out. Dean crouched down beside him, looking out into the woods for a moment before deciding they were safe enough and nodding for Cas to open the map.

“Alright, so if we go South here, we could avoid Chicago… it adds another couple hundred miles though, if we want to avoid the major cities in Iowa…”

Dean eyed the map, nodding as he watched Castiel trace an alternate route to the one they were on. Then he reached forward and pointed. “Why don’t we just go straight? If we went this way, we could avoid Chicago and -”

“Well if we went North, we’d add… several more days onto our route. We would have to go around the Great Lakes, into Canada and -”

“Why?” Dean asked, looking up to meet Castiel’s eyes. “Why do we have to go around them?” 

Castiel looked confused, shaking his head slowly. “Dean… they’re not just lakes. They’re -”

“I know how big they are, Cas,” Dean snorted, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “But I’m saying if we just did a straight shot to New York, we could go through the water. Hell, we might even be safer going that route. There are bound to be boats or jet skis or something.”

“You… you want to jet ski to New York?” Castiel asked in disbelief and Dean gave a small shrug.

“I mean, if that’s all we can find.”

“Dean, it’s the beginning of September. By the time we get to Lake Michigan it will be creeping into October. Do you have any idea how cold the water up here will be?” 

“It’s not like it’s going to be iced over or anything,” Dean replied, giving another shrug. Castiel wasn’t having any of it. 

“We will _not_ take jet skis,” he said firmly, pulling the map back towards himself and scanning it quickly. He seemed to find what he was looking for because he nodded to himself and folded it back up, trading the map out for some granola bars and handing one over to Dean.

“We can head over to Lake Michigan on one condition,” he said, catching Dean’s eyes to make sure he was listening before he continued. “If we can’t find a safe way to travel around the lake, we will backtrack. We can bump out and go around Chicago, then get back onto I-90 which is a straight shot to New York. We’ll probably have to take a car around the city if we want to avoid adding on too many extra days-”

“Deal,” Dean said, interrupting. Castiel gave him a smile though, so he knew he was forgiven for being rude. “If there’s no safe way to cross the lakes, we’ll find an alternative route.”

“Alright then,” Casitel said with a genuine smile as he swung the pack back over his shoulder and stood, brushing bits of dirt and gravel from the knees of his pants. “Are you ready?”

Dean just smiled and opened his granola bar as he stood and turned, ready to continue walking. 

\--

“Are you sure?” Castiel hissed. Dean nodded, reaching back to grab Castiel’s arm and drag him forward. They’d walked further than they’d meant to, the sun going down on them faster than they’d anticipated. Finding a place to bunk down for the night was hard enough as is, nevermind attempting to do it in the dark. 

“We don’t have a choice, now come on,” Dean hissed back as they moved around the large, plastic wrapped rolls of hay. He heard Castiel muttering something under his breath, but Dean ignored him, instead focusing on the sounds ahead of them. 

They were on a farm on the outskirts of the town. There were cows sheltered in a large blue barn to the left of them, but Dean’s goal was a smaller barn across the cornfield. With any luck, it was simply a storage shed with farm equipment, one that wouldn’t be too full, and would give them cover for the night. The town itself, they weren’t holding out any hope for. 

When they’d first seen the town pop up on the horizon, they had been relieved. A night spent inside four walls instead of on the cold, hard ground sounded like a dream. However, on the main highway coming into the town, they looked up and saw that the water tower had been painted with the very clear message “TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT”.

That left trying to break into any of the houses way more dangerous than it was worth in the dark, and the few churches they could see rising above the houses a lost cause. They would have to skirt around the town, just in case the painted threat would be followed through. 

“If I get shot, I’m totally kicking your ass,” Castiel muttered, though he was closer to Dean’s back now, allowing Dean to hear him perfectly. 

Dean couldn’t hold back the smile and shook his head as he moved forward. From the few houses they could see, the town was dark, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was empty. 

When they reached the small barn, the pair felt silent, Castiel taking the left while Dean took the right. If Dean wasn’t so hyper aware of what was going on around them, he would’ve been impressed at how flawlessly they worked together, clearing the area without having to utter a word. By the time they met up on the other side of the barnby the main doors, Dean was sending out a silent prayer that it would be unlocked. 

As luck would have it, they were. However, the barn was chock full of farm gear, leaving very little space for them to squeeze in. As Dean secured the doors behind them, they stood in silence as they waited for their eyes to adjust. There was a thin stream of moonlight coming in from a crack in the roof. 

Castiel let out a deep sigh and Dean couldn’t help but agree with him there. 

“I’ll take first watch,” Castiel said, dropping his pack and bending down to free his sleeping bag and blanket. He tossed both over the front of the tractor, Dean catching them easily despite the small space. 

“You sure?” Dean asked as he freed his own sleeping gear and carried it all up onto the tractor’s bucket seat. It wouldn’t be the most comfortable, but he’d definitely slept in worse. At Castiel’s nod, Dean worked on spreading out the blankets and sleeping bag, making the small space as comfortable as he could before he curled up in his blanket and laid down. He stretched his feet out over the steering wheel, shifting so that he could hopefully avoid his legs falling asleep from the pressure. 

Below him, Castiel was moving something around, probably to sit on, but Dean was too tired to open his eyes and look. He settled quickly and Dean fell asleep to the soft sounds of Castiel humming to keep himself awake.

Waking up was not as pleasant as falling asleep. 

A loud BANG rattled the barn doors, making Dean jump and nearly fall off the side of the tractor. Castiel was immediately at his side, standing on the step and reaching for Dean to keep him in the seat and quiet. His eyes were wide in the dark and Dean held his breath, listening. 

The sound of voices, albeit far off, were enough to tell him what the bang was. He untangled himself from the blankets, shoving them at Castiel whose arms were open and waiting, both of them sliding off their respective sides of the tractor to get their ruck-sacks. 

“Dean!” Castiel hissed to get his attention and Dean swore as he dropped down, another BANG and the ricochet of shotgun bullets spraying across the main doors of the barn. He shoved his bag underneath the tractor, knowing Castiel would pull it out, and then shimmied his way through. Despite the place being jam packed with equipment, the noises coming from the people outside were loud enough to drown out the sounds of them moving everything aside and making a path. There was a small exit door on the back and Dean followed Castiel’s path through the equipment. 

“Okay,” Castiel whispered as the front doors to the barn were flung open, a bright spotlight flooding the area. There were people yelling, but Dean ignored them, focusing on Cas’ face. “We have to run.”

“Tree line is to the left,” Dean agreed, reaching for the straps of his bag and tightening them around his shoulders. “I’m ready.”

Castiel let out a slow breath then reached to unlock the door, nearly body slamming it open. Together they tumbled back out into the night. There was more yelling and Dean twisted his head to see four men running around the side of the barn towards them, one pumping a shotgun. 

“Go! Go, Cas!” Dean yelled, forcing himself to run faster. He nearly ran into Castiel’s back as Cas tripped over a small drainage ditch, but another look behind them showed they were both faster than the townspeople. 

As they cleared the forest line, Cas reached for Dean’s arm, jerking them to the side and taking them on a zigzagged path through the trees. It was dark, and Dean’s face and arms were being whipped by branches he couldn’t see as they tore through the underbrush, but it gave them the cover they needed to get away. 

When Castiel skidded to a stop, Dean nearly collapsed beside him; his lungs were burning, tears tracked down his cheeks from the stinging pain every branch to his face caused, and his leg muscles were screaming. 

“I… hate you,” Castiel wheezed out, glaring at him in the shadows. 

Dean gave a short, surprised laugh and shoved at Castiel gently. “You do not,” he replied, turning around to look behind them. The forest was quiet but for the sounds of nature, and Dean was relieved that the townspeople had given up their chase and that their crashing through hadn’t summoned any Lifeless. 

“Here,” Castiel said, handing over one of the canteens, wiping his mouth when Dean freed it from his hands. “And I do. I told you I would kill you if I got shot.”

“You didn’t get shot,” Dean said with a shrug, walking away a few steps. The area around them was dense with trees, but there was enough space to set up a makeshift camp for the rest of the night. “So I suppose I will live to see another day.”

He didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know Castiel was rolling his eyes. 

“Besides,” Dean added as he dropped his pack to the ground, freeing the blanket that Cas had somehow managed to buckle into place in the ruckus of the barn, “I am _very_ pretty. I imagine I’m too pretty to kill.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Castiel grumbled, dropping down beside Dean and freeing the mass of his sleeping bag. “I was drunk. My behavior is completely excusable.”

“Not sure that’s how it works buddy,” Dean chuckled and motioned for Cas to set up a sleeping area. “Pretty sure that’s never how it works.”

“Yeah, well, it does in the apocalypse.” 

Dean shrugged, finding he couldn’t find an argument to that statement. “Get some sleep,” he said instead, getting comfortable against the tree. “How long was I out?” 

“Almost three hours,” Castiel answered, settling down on the ground and grimacing as he tried to get comfortable. “I’m sorry. It's my fault they found us,” Castiel sighed, shaking his head as he looked up at Dean. “I had to pee. Shouldn’t have left the barn...”

“I would’ve done the same,” Dean answered simply and shrugged. “It’s okay, Cas. We’re both safe, it's all good. We’ll learn from it.”

“Yes,” Castiel agreed, stifling a yawn as he turned onto his side. “Pee inside only. Duly noted.”


	4. This Flame is Burning

****

**This Flame is Burning**

_“Day by day  
and night by night  
we were together -   
all else  
has long been forgotten  
by me.”  
Walt Whitman _

**Oakland, Minnesota  
43.682844, -93.101081**

It had been almost a week since their near-run in at the barn. Five days in which they’d spent each night camped out in whatever cover they could find. It was too damn bad that they were in farm country, as the small groves of trees or scattered forests were making them backtrack more than anything before the sun set. The company, however, helped immensely, and despite the blisters reopening on Dean’s heels, he wouldn’t really change much. Other than the obvious, that is. 

Dean wrinkled his nose as he watched Castiel bent over their small makeshift fire. He was surprised at how normal this felt. The fact that his complaint was about his blisters instead of them being in an apocalypse was… confusing. _Shouldn’t my first thought be how I wished none of this had happened? I should be wishing I was sitting on the couch with a cold beer, watching the news as Lisa makes sure Ben is heading to bed? I should be craving my memory foam mattress instead of laughing over rock-paper-scissors to see who will take first watch?_

He should want to go back in time, to have none of this happen. But the simple thought of never getting to meet Castiel made something thick and dark take root in his stomach. He glanced over again and this time, Castiel looked up and smiled. 

“Almost ready,” Castiel said softly, turning back to the cans he had shoved in the coals of the fire. 

Two days ago, they’d stumbled upon a camp that had been ripped apart by Lifeless. At least, that’s the conclusion they’d come to. The remains that were there were completely torn apart, and blood covered the area as far as they could see. There was no way a human was responsible, not a way either of them wanted to contemplate. People had to retain their humanity, otherwise, what were they really fighting for? 

After Castiel had checked each of the bodies, “Just in case”, and Dean had emptied the contents of his stomach behind a tree before handing Cas a rag to wipe the blood from his hands, they searched what was left. They came away with some cans of food, a nice sized pocket knife, and Castiel’s new favorite toy - a pair of heavy duty metal tongs. 

“I don’t know why I never thought of picking these up,” Castiel said as he held up his prize triumphantly. “No more burned fingers, Dean! This will -”

“Change everything?” Dean deadpanned, earning himself a poke from the end of the tongs. At least they were sharp enough to also double as a weapon… 

Now, Castiel was using them to pull the cans of ravioli and green beans from the coals, setting them down sizzling in a prepared spot by the fire. Dean pushed up to his knees, moving over to hand Castiel one of the two forks. Sitting side by side, they dug into their dinner. 

Dean had to admit, having the tongs _did_ make it so that pineneedles and dirt from their makeshift oven glove didn’t get into the food. Perhaps it was the combination of not having to chew sand with the comfort of their warm meal of the day, that made Dean ask, “Do you miss it?”

Castiel paused mid-bite, a green bean slipping from his fork and landing on his jeans. He swore under his breath and picked it up, giving it half a look before shoving it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. 

“I miss warm showers,” Castiel answered finally, giving a shrug, “and socks that I changed daily instead of once a week.” 

Dean rolled his eyes, stabbing another ravioli. “You know what I mean.”

Castiel nodded and looked into the fire, the orange flames causing light to flicker over his face. Still, even with the glow and the darkness around them, his eyes shone bright and blue, almost ethereal. Dean swallowed thickly, tearing his eyes away from Cas to look at their food, flicking a beetle away as it climbed the side of a tin. 

“There are a lot of things I miss,” Castiel started again, his voice soft, barely above a whisper, but Dean hung on every word. “The obvious things - the comfort of living in a modern world. Showers, refrigerators, electricity… Hell, I even miss grocery shopping and reading calorie labels.” Dean snorted at that, unable to picture the man who got excited over Chef Boyarde and bags of pork rings counting calories. 

“I miss my family. I miss the ease of picking up the phone and finding out who Gabriel’s flame of the week is, hearing all about how this one was ‘the one’ because she was able to do a double shot of tequila without wincing.” Castiel gave a soft smile and Dean nodded, the ache he had from missing Sammy flaring strong in the center of his chest. “I even miss my mother’s phone calls, asking me when I’m going to settle down and get married, harassing me about taking a vacation.

“I miss helping people, putting on a clean pair of scrubs and explaining the same procedures again and again to my patients’ family members. The city traffic, however, I do not miss.” Castiel turned his head and winked at Dean then, making Dean laugh. “I think if anyone misses that, they’re truly a masochist.”

“It’s funny how the seemingly mundane things, like a home cooked meal, going to work every day, cleaning the house… those are the weird things you miss.”

Castiel nodded and stretched his legs out, twisting the fork around in his fingers. “There are a lot of things I miss, Dean. But… I have what I need. We are able to find food, we have shelter,” he waved his hand over their small camp area and their bags, “we have protection. We are lucky enough to have medication if we need it. We have water. And… and I have you.”

Dean looked up at that again, finding Castiel’s eyes in the dark. 

“As much as I come across as being independent, moving across the country by myself, I’m a very ‘social’ person.” Dean snorted at the air quotes, smiling fondly as Castiel continued on. “I don’t like being alone, I don’t... I don’t thrive on being alone. And I honestly don’t know if I could’ve made it this far without you, Dean.”

Dean inhaled sharply, licking his lower lip as he reached over and squeezed Cas’ arm. “Me too,” he whispered, clearing his throat as the words got stuck. “I… thank you, Cas. For coming with me.”

“If I had been able to choose, I wouldn’t have picked anyone else to go on this crazy adventure with.” 

Dean smiled then. The mix of emotions he suddenly felt was overwhelming. He was torn between agreeing, telling Cas that despite everything, his life was better thanks to Cas being in it, and reaching for his go-to defense. 

“Well, it's only because I’m so pretty.” 

Castiel glared, reaching down and picking a green bean from the can and flicking it at Dean’s face. “I take it all back. You’re horrible and make this whole trip awful.”

“Sorry, Cas. No take-backs!” Dean sing-songed, earning himself a second green bean to his nose. He chuckled and they returned to finishing their dinner, Castiel putting another handful of sticks onto the fire. 

It was Dean’s turn to sleep first, so he stretched out on their sleeping gear, and forced himself to turn his back to the fire, settling into its warmth. The ground beneath him was cold. It was mid-September now, and the temperatures at night were starting to drop to uncomfortable levels. He made a mental note to find them more blankets and looked up at the tree in front of him. 

Castiel’s shadow flickered over the bark and Dean resisted the urge to reach up and trace the outline. He forced himself to close his eyes and shut out the rest of his thoughts. 

**Spring Valley, Minnesota  
43.709894, -92.474276**

“Dean, come on!” Castiel was bordering on begging and Dean bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to laugh. 

“It’s a bad idea, Cas…” 

“It’s not!” Castiel argued, jogging a few steps in front of Dean and turning, grabbing his shoulders and holding him in place. “We’ll scout the area first, and if it's too dangerous, we’ll leave!” 

Dean rolled his eyes, unable to bite back a smirk. “I guess I figured you for an expensive bourbon drinker or something. Maybe whiskey.”

Castiel glared at him and shrugged his shoulders. “I enjoy that, too. But Dean… there’s nothing like a good Pinot Grigio or Merlot!”

Dean sighed but finally nodded, the fist pump Castiel gave making the other man look like a child. “Lead the way.” 

They saw the billboards on the highway a few miles back, advertising Four Daughters Vineyard & Winery. Dean had laughed at their logo, saying it looked like a mix of the Avengers and Fantastic Four, which led Dean to talk about Marvel for a good two hours. Perhaps that’s why Cas needed a drink so badly. 

They passed through fields of grapes in various stages, most ready to harvest. Dean picked a few handfuls, shaking off ants that were swarming the bunch and popping a few grapes in his mouth. He couldn’t help but groan as the taste of fresh fruit burst across his tongue and Castiel rolled his eyes, holding out his hand for Dean to pass some over. 

The vineyard building itself was oddly shaped with a large pitched roof on one side. The siding was a deep red and, unfortunately, everything around it was flat. There were cars scattered out in the parking lot and Dean paused, crouching down behind some of the grapes and pulling Castiel beside him. 

It was quiet, but that didn’t mean anything. They slowly worked their way around the far side of the building, the windows thankfully large around the deck. “Let’s go,” Dean whispered, reaching for his weapon and moving forward to press his back against the siding. They stood there breathing slowly and listening in the quiet for several long moments. 

Castiel moved around Dean’s side, reaching to test the sliding glass door. It was unsurprisingly locked. Dean watched Castiel’s face as he considered the options and was glad when he chose to continue around the building. If they were in danger once they got inside, they could use the sliding door as an escape. Breaking through the glass panes would be a last resort. 

The front of the building had an electric door, but it was unlocked. “Cover me,” Castiel said as he stepped up to them, wiggling his fingers into the door and pulling as hard as he could. Dean was momentarily distracted at the way Cas’ arms looked, his muscles bulging and his sleeves riding up towards his shoulders. The door gave a sickening groan, pulling Dean from his thoughts, and finally moved on the track. Dean cleared his throat and tore his eyes from Cas’ arms to squeeze beneath them into the foyer. 

“It looks empty,” Dean said softly, eyes scanning the darkened room. 

“It -”

“Who’s there?” a voice boomed through the room, causing both Dean and Castiel to jump. Castiel was quick, grabbing Dean’s backpack and jerking him down towards the floor. They side-stepped to crouch before the front desk. 

“We don’t mean you any harm!” Castiel called out and Dean glanced over at him, raising a brow at the deep intimidation he put in his voice. Castiel shrugged back and then looked up, listening. “We are just passing through and were looking for a safe place to camp for the night. We’ll leave!” 

“You… you don’t have to,” a female voice called out and immediately after, the first voice swore. 

“Anna, I told you to stay put!” 

Dean twisted his head, giving Cas a look. The only other person who could understand what Dean was thinking with a glance was Sam. Despite the six years they’d spent together, not even Lisa could tell what he was thinking half the time. And yet, Cas nodded and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before he pushed up to his feet. Cas’ weapon was now in Dean’s hands, Cas’ own hands up in the air in a sign of peace. 

“I promise, we don’t mean you any harm.”

“And your boy behind the counter isn’t poised and ready to blow our heads off, right?” 

Dean squeezed the blade in his hand, resisting the urge to peek over the counter and see what they were dealing with. Two voices didn’t necessarily mean only two people, and he tapped the back of Cas’ calf, glancing up to see Cas holding out three fingers. Bingo. Three against two…

“He won’t cause you any harm as long as you extend the same favor to us,” Castiel said calmly, his stance behind the counter wide, ready to dive back out of the way if need be. Dean gripped the blade harder. 

The man swore and Dean heard the tell-tale sound of a gun clicking. Then, Cas tapped Dean’s shoulder, giving a small nod. Slowly, Dean stood up beside him, looking over the three people before them. 

The man was dark-skinned and buff, the oversized sweatshirt he was wearing only serving to make him look more imposing. Behind him, a thin, short woman with long red hair was peeking around his shoulder, surveying the two with interest. The third person was a skinny teenager with a baseball cap pulled too far down on his head. His eyes were wide as he looked between his own group of survivors and the newcomers. 

“We will leave,” Castiel said softly, reaching back to push against Dean’s stomach, the two of them stepping backwards. 

The man’s eyes narrowed as he sighed heavily, shoving his gun into the waistband of his jeans. “Don’t make me regret this,” he muttered, turning around to look at the woman. “This will be on you, Anna.”

She smiled and pushed around him, coming to stand on the other side of the front desk with her arm extended. “I’m Anna, and that grump over there is Uriel. He found me and my brother, Alfie, when all of this went down, and we’ve been traveling together ever since.”

“They-they-they don’t need our wh-whole life story, Anna,” Alfie stuttered softly, shrinking back against the doorframe as Uriel pushed past him and disappeared. 

Anna rolled her eyes before looking over her shoulder at her brother. “That’s how you make friends, Alfie!” She turned back to Castiel and Dean and smiled, her hand still outstretched and waiting. 

“I’m Castiel,” Cas said finally, reaching forward to shake her hand, “and this is Dean.” 

“Welcome!” Anna said with a smile, shaking his hand and then Dean’s, completely unphased by his reluctance. “We just arrived here a few days ago. We’ve cleaned a bit in here, the gift shop, and the little cafe. Uriel is working on getting us into the storeroom, but we’re pretty sure there’s some dead-un-dead in there…”

Castiel nodded and glanced at Dean before moving around the counter. Anna beamed at them and then turned, leading them into the gift shop. The shelves were empty, but broken shot glasses and wine glasses crunched under foot. Most of the shelving units were turned upside down, but there was a clear path through the room. Dean glanced over them as they walked through, and he realized that they were stacked in such a way that it would make coming in through a window or the side door more trouble than it was worth. 

“We’ve set up in here,” Anna said as they walked into the next room, the cafe area where all the tables were shoved up against the large windows leading onto the deck with the chairs stacked haphazardly on top of them. Again, they served to both open up the space and block the windows and doors from being used as an entrance - or exit. In the center of the room, a large metal drum was set up with a small fire crackling in it. There were three sleeping bags laid out around it. 

“Go ahead and set your things down,” Anna offered, crossing the room to pull some chairs free and set them on the floor, “then we can go see what Uriel is up to.”

Dean glanced at Castiel, lips pursed while giving a small shake of his head. There was no way he was leaving their gear, their entire survival, unsupervised right now. Castiel took the lead again, shaking his head. “I think for now, we’ll hold onto our things.”

Anna shrugged and pushed away from the chairs. “Your choice. Now, I bet Uriel’s back here…” She continued walking and Alfie gave a small sigh. Dean turned his head to look at the kid, raising a brow. 

“We’ve been here for al-almost three days,” Alfie whispered, tearing his eyes away from Dean’s face to look down at his hands. “Uriel’s con-con-convinced there’s good stuff in the back because of the de-dead.”

“There’s Lifeless in the back?” Dean asked and Anna confirmed with a nod of her head.

“We can hear them in there, but the doors are barred on the other side, we think.”

Uriel appeared in the doorway, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “If you’re going to stay, you might as well be useful,” he said finally, jerking his head to the side. “Let’s go.”

Dean glanced over at Castiel again then shrugged, walking towards Uriel. The small hallway leading to the storeroom was dark, no windows to light the way. There were doors to the left, marked as bathrooms, and a swinging door on the right for the kitchen. At the end of the hall was a solid door and as they neared it, Dean could hear the sounds of _something_ banging around on the other side. 

“Not sure how many there are,” Uriel commented, leaning against the wall beside the door, cocking his head as he watched Dean step forward. “Sounds like more than one.”

Castiel moved behind Dean, looking around the hallway. “I wonder if any of those high windows outside look into this storeroom. Have you checked?” 

“No, I was more interested in keeping Anna and Alfie safe than parading outside.”

Castiel gave a small snort, dropped his pack at Dean’s feet, and then was gone. Dean didn’t need to look to know he was heading outside. They stood in the dark hallway, waiting for Castiel to return, with Uriel glaring at Dean. The mistrust was clear on his face and it made Dean’s skin itch beneath his gaze. 

“There’s three,” Castiel reported once he returned, Anna at his side. “There’s a few cases of wine blocking the door, and there’s enough supplies in there for… well, a long time. Cases of water, dry goods, salted meats and cheeses.”

“Are the windows big enough to get through?” Dean asked, turning to find Castiel’s eyes. 

“No. Perhaps Alfie could, but the rest of us won’t be able to fit,” Castiel answered, shaking his head. “Is the door unlocked?”

“Yes, but as you pointed out,” Uriel replied with a sigh, “there are cases of wine blocking the door.”

Ignoring his tone, Castiel continued, “If all of us push, we should be able to move the cases out of the way enough for us to slip through. The Lifeless are at the back of the room, and there’s more downed cases so they shouldn’t be able to get to us quickly.” 

Dean nodded and slipped his backpack from his back, tucking it in the corner and picking up his machete. Castiel followed suit, attaching his hunter’s knife to his pants and swinging the strap of his katana over his shoulder. 

“Alfie, stay to the side,” Anna ordered, practically skipping over to the door and standing in between Dean and Uriel. “You cover us when we go in.”

Alfie nodded quickly, positioning himself as far away from where the door would open while still being able to push it as he could. 

“Here we go,” Dean muttered as he took his spot beside Castiel, bracing himself against the door. They let Uriel give the count, then the five of them pushed. 

“Shit,” Anna swore as the door jerked forward, the sound of wine bottles rattling echoing in the hallway. Then, the sounds of groaning filled the air. 

“Harder,” Uriel grunted, the door jerking forward again. “Hold it!” 

Dean’s muscles were screaming at him as he braced himself against the door, Castiel grunting as he shoved his shoulder into the wood. Uriel pushed himself through the opening, a screeching sound coming from one of the Lifeless as they were able to view their prey. 

The sounds of Uriel fighting on the other side made all of them push harder, Anna screaming out his name before slipping through herself. Dean swore and shoved at Cas’ arm, the two of them tumbling through the open door and barely stopping themselves from tripping over the few bottles that were on the ground. 

Dean jerked his head up, taking in the sight before him. “Behind you!” he shouted at Uriel, the other man grappling with one of the Lifeless, a second reaching for his back. Their eyes were bleeding, skin ashen and rotting in a way Dean hadn’t seen yet. Their fingernails were shredded, as if they’d tried to claw their way through a wall to get out of the storeroom. 

Uriel twisted, managing to toss the Lifeless he was grappling with onto the floor before jerking his arm up and plunging a knife into the approaching one’s chest. Castiel reacted faster than Dean, swinging his Katana through the air and beheading the creature Uriel cast back. 

Anna screamed as the last Lifeless ripped through her upper arm, fingernails breaking through her skin like a knife cutting butter. Dean shot forward, stabbing his blade through the creature’s back. It let out an awful howl, Anna’s scream matching it in pitch as it jerked away from her, tearing her arm open. 

Dean fell backwards, tripping over the wine and landing hard on the ground. Seconds later, the Lifeless was on top of him, its jaw gnashing dangerously close to his face. 

“Dean!” Castiel yelled, but Dean couldn’t tell where he was, couldn’t tell where any of them were. He could only focus on his hands pressing against the thing’s throat, trying to keep it away from his own. 

One second the teeth were clacking in his face, and the next Dean was gagging, a spray of putrid blood raining down on his face as the Lifeless’ head was sliced in half. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, rolling to the side, the body falling with a thump beside him. He wiped at the blood in his eyes, Castiel’s knees falling to the ground beside him. “You could’ve… fuck.”

“I know,” Cas answered quickly, reaching for Dean’s arms and pulling him over onto his back, “but I didn’t.” 

Behind them, Uriel was shifting the bodies, making his way to Anna. He could hear them talking softly, but Dean’s eyes were stuck on Castiel’s worried gaze. Castiel swallowed hard, his eyes shining and Dean opened his mouth, finding there were no words. 

Castiel’s eyes dropped down to his mouth, his tongue flicking across his lower lip before he cleared his throat and pushed back. Dean blew out a slow, steadying breath before pushing up into a sitting position, looking around the store room. 

Uriel was crouched over Anna’s body, his sweatshirt removed, and he was busy ripping it, presumably to take care of her wound. Alfie was peeking into the room, his eyes wide and terrified. Castiel was focusing on anything but Dean, and despite that being the least of his worries, that was the only thing Dean could focus on. 

“Th-there’s more water,” Alfie mumbled from his safety zone, unwilling to come into the room despite the threat having been eliminated. Dean turned his head to see where Alfie was looking and saw four cases of water stacked against the wall, only a few bottles missing from the top. There was also a stack of hard cheese wheels, large salamis, a sack of potatoes, rice, and oatmeal. “And food.” 

“Well,” Uriel said from his spot on the ground, looking up and - Dean had to rub his eyes to make sure the blood in them wasn’t making him see things - actually _smiled_. “Guess we’re eating good tonight.” 

Castiel squeezed Dean’s leg before moving over to join Uriel, accepting a bottle of water to wash away the blood from Anna’s wound so he could see what they were dealing with. Uriel sat beside him, watching carefully, though he let Castiel work. Alfie accepted cases of water and food from Dean, stacking them in the hallway for them to put away once they were cleaned up. 

“Alright, she’s good until we can get this cleaned out,” Castiel said as he wiped his hands on a strip of Uriel’s sweatshirt, a mixture of Anna’s and Lifeless blood leaving thick, dark stripes. Uriel nodded and helped Anna stand, walking with her out of the room while Castiel and Dean finished collecting the supplies. 

They shut the storage room behind them, breathing out a sigh when it was done. Alfie stood awkwardly in the hallway, waiting for direction.

“We need to wash up,” Castiel said simply, Alfie nodding quickly as he looked over them. “Is there an employee bathroom in here? Showers?”

“No,” Alfie shook his head, “but the water in the sinks works. We haven’t been able to get it hot, though.” 

“Where’s the kitchen?” Castiel asked, following after Alfie as he turned and strode down the hallway with purpose. Dean peeked into the main room, watching as Uriel was pulling clean clothes out of their bags, Anna leaning against the coffee island with a grimace on her face. 

“Cas?” Dean called, pushing open the swinging doors to an oversized kitchen. Castiel was pulling open drawers with Alfie, but paused and looked over. “Anna looks like she’s in a lot of pain.”

“Why don’t you give her two of the Doxycycline and some Tylenol? I need her to wash up before I get a better look at the wound.” 

“Got it,” Dean said with a nod, heading back out for their bags and digging to the bottom for the medication. He presented it to Anna who was sipping slowly from one of the water bottles.

“I’m glad we found more of this,” she said as she lifted the water bottle to swallow down the pills. “There were a few in the kitchen that we found when we got here,” she added at Dean’s confused look. 

Dean smiled and nodded, jumping up onto one of the barstools to wait for Alfie and Castiel to come back. Alfie walked back in first, carrying handfuls of dish rags. Castiel came behind him with a small first aid kit and larger towels. They split the towels out evenly, then went to collect clean sets of clothes from their packs. 

Alfie helped Anna to her feet, calling over his shoulder that he would help her if she needed it, since he was the only one not covered in grime. Uriel, Castiel, and Dean headed towards the bathrooms where Uriel walked into the men’s with a look over his shoulder that clearly said they weren’t welcome. 

“If you want me to wait,” Dean started just as Castiel said, “You can go first if-”

Dean laughed and pushed open the door, holding it for Castiel. Dean walked to the furthest sink, giving Castiel enough space in the small bathroom. Despite it being a women’s bathroom, he figured the urinal etiquette was still in place as Castiel stayed at the fourth sink, with two remaining between them. 

Dean looked up at himself in the mirror and immediately regretted it. He hadn’t seen his own face in weeks, and despite being covered in thick, black blood, he was surprised at how much he’d changed. His beard was starting to get thick, his cheeks thin, and his eyes haunted. He immediately tore his eyes away and reached for the sink, spinning the faucet. 

Quietly, they began to strip. Dean was hyper aware of the fact that Castiel was standing just feet away from him in his boxers, and he resisted the urge to sneak a peek. There was a charge in the room, something had _changed_ , and it terrified Dean to speak it out loud.

The water was ice cold as he dipped the towel in it, ringing out the excess before starting to scrub at the muck on his face and his neck. Beside him, the whirring of the soap dispenser caught his attention Dean turned his head to see Castiel staring at it with a frustrated look. 

“We should probably put in a complaint to maintenance,” Castiel deadpanned, looking up to meet Dean’s eyes. The tension snapped and Dean let out a loud laugh, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. 

“Jesus, Cas,” he said with a cackle, reaching over to his own soap dispenser, a healthy glob of bright pink foam spitting onto his towel. 

“Sharing is caring,” Castiel quipped with a smile, walking over with his own towel to get some of the soap. His small gasp made Dean jump and meet his eyes in the mirror. But Castiel wasn’t looking at Dean’s face, his eyes were trained on Dean’s back. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” Castiel demanded, his free hand pressing, warm and heavy on the center of Dean’s back. Dean just barely repressed a shiver, craning his head as if he could see what Cas was looking at. “It’s not deep…” Cas mumbled, the soapy towel in his hands running softly over Dean’s shoulder. 

Dean hissed at the sudden sting, jerking back slightly. 

“Sorry,” Castiel said quickly, pulling him back. “Looks like it was probably from glass…” His fingers were gentle, but it still stung as he pressed around the wound. “No glass,” he announced, finally meeting Dean’s gaze with a smile. “Once you’re cleaned up, I found some skin glue in that kit and we’ll take care of it. You should probably take an antibiotic, too, just in case.”

Dean nodded, watching as Castiel reached over him to collect more soap and head back over to his sink. They finished washing up in silence, but Dean couldn’t stop thinking of the feeling of Castiel’s hand against his bare skin… 

“I’ll get these,” Dean offered as they finished, picking up his dirty clothes and Castiel’s. “Go check on Anna, I’ll meet you back out there.” 

Castiel nodded, grateful, and left to let Dean wash the blood and dirt from their clothes, unaware of Dean’s racing thoughts. As Dean wrung out the last pair of jeans, he looked up into the mirror again, swallowing hard at his reflection. 

“I’m sorry, Lis,” he whispered, though for the life of him… he wasn’t sure what it was he was apologizing for anymore. 

\--

“Much better!” Uriel announced as he strode back into the room, Dean, Castiel, Anna, and Alfie already sitting around the fire. Alfie had dragged over the stools, their wet clothing hanging over them to dry, and Uriel nodded his thanks as Dean shoved the last stool towards him. 

Castiel was just finishing up stitching Anna’s shoulder, the wound tidy and neat thanks to Castiel’s swift but gentle hands. He waved Dean over and dug through the first aid kit for what he needed to patch up Dean next. As he worked, all Dean could think of was Anna’s shoulder and how she wouldn’t have an ugly, thick scar there like he did. _Why does that even matter?_

Sighing, Dean stood up from the ground and walked down the hallway for his bag, jumping as Castiel came up behind him. Dean gave him a small smile and led him to a door opening into an oversized closet. He looked inside and shrugged, tossing his bag in before looking back at Castiel. “If you think I’m crazy...” Dean muttered.

“No, we can stay in here,” Castiel responded quickly, giving Dean a smile. “Does it lock?” 

Dean nodded and Castiel took that for what it was, dropping his bag beside Dean’s before they joined the rest of the group once more. Unlike the trust Dean immediately felt for Cas, he didn’t feel the same with this new group. Maybe it was how they were greeted, or perhaps the glaring from Uriel, or the over-the-top excitement from Anna, but Dean _didn’t_ trust them, and Cas clearly didn’t either. 

They were safe enough to share a meal with, however. 

With an oversized wok Alfie found while Anna was cleaning up, Castiel set about making them dinner. He laid the wok over the fire and started slicing up potatoes to pan fry, adding in a healthy dose of parmesan cheese. Anna hummed and chatted while she cut up the sausage and hard cheeses, setting them out on a large cutting board for everyone to snack on, the Tylenol clearly helping her pain. Or perhaps that was the wine they cracked open... While they worked, Dean, Alfie, and Uriel split up the food and water for all of them to take with them and enough for them to have as long as they stayed at the winery. 

The potatoes were warm and heavy, the wine sharp but sweet, and all of it was making Dean sleepy. Uriel had refused the wine, saying the apocalypse wasn’t a good enough reason for him to negate his sobriety, but the remaining four polished off six bottles before the sun went down. Uriel sat and watched them while drinking his water and picking apart the rest of the potatoes. 

“We’re going to sleep,” Castiel said finally, picking up the last bottle they’d cracked open and pushing shakily to his feet. “Before Dean passes out right here on the hardwood floor.” 

“You’re welcome to stay out here with us!” Anna slurred, lifting her head up sleepily from her makeshift pillow. On the other side of her, Uriel was busy trying to wake Alfie up and get him to drink a bottle of water. 

“We don’t want to intrude. Plus,” Dean said with a shrug, following after Cas, “he snores.” 

Anna gave them a soft smile and it suddenly hit Dean that she thought, they probably all thought, he and Castiel were a couple. The sudden realization made him snort with laughter, and he tripped into Castiel’s back as the other man stopped to open up the closet door, nearly making them both tumble to the ground. 

“If you make me spill this wine,” Castiel threatened as he pulled himself back up with the door frame, “you’re going to be sleeping in the wet spot.” 

The comment did nothing to curb Dean’s laughter, and he fell to his knees, laughing until tears were streaming down his face. Castiel gave a soft huff of a laugh and ignored him, going through their things until he found a flashlight to turn on so he could shut and lock the closet door. 

“You’re mental,” he said after he sat back down, the flashlight sitting on a shelf and pointing up, giving them enough light to see by. 

“Dude,” Dean wheezed out, laughing even harder, “we’re in the closet and you’re threatening me with the wet spot!” 

Castiel cocked his head to the side and then broke into a wide, gummy smile, his laughter matching Dean’s. “I honestly never thought I would find myself back in the closet.” 

Dean rolled his eyes, shaking his head. But he knew the way Castiel felt. While Dean had long since come to terms with the knowledge that he was bisexual, it had been years since he’d noticed anyone other than Lisa. He licked his lower lips as he found Castiel’s eyes in the dim light and leaned forward, Castiel’s breath hot on his face as he exhaled sharply. “I won’t make you stay in here alone, Cas. Promise.”

Castiel swallowed thickly, the laughter gone from his face as his eyes flickered between Dean’s eyes and his mouth. “I… appreciate that, Dean.” 

“They think we’re together,” Dean said after a moment, Castiel simply nodding once. “They think… they think we’re _together_ together.”

“Well, we are in a closet,” Castiel whispered, tearing his eyes away and giving a soft smile. “I can see why they would think that.”

“And you think I’m pretty,” Dean snorted, Castiel’s eyes jerking back up and glaring at him. 

“Right now I just find you annoying.” 

“Liar,” Dean breathed out, swaying forward. God, he drank way more than he’d meant to… Castiel reached up and laid his right hand over Dean’s bicep and Dean felt the outline of every finger through his flannel as if Cas’ hand was made of fire. It felt nice, comforting, safe… “You don’t find me annoying at all.” 

Castiel gave a small smile and shook his head. “You’re drunk, Dean.” 

Dean nodded his head, because yes, he was. But he was also… he shook his head, the small space between them spinning. “I…” He stopped and smiled, closing the distance between them and pressing his lips to Castiel’s. Castiel gasped and Dean could taste the sweet, red wine on Castiel’s tongue. The pressure on his arm increased, Castiel pulling him in closer, a soft noise falling from his throat as Dean reached for him, too. 

Time seemed to stop and Dean couldn’t get enough of the press of Castiel’s lips to his, the heat of his body. But all too soon, Castiel was pulling back, his tongue tracing his bottom lip where _Dean’s_ tongue should be. “We should sleep,” Cas whispered, shifting back away from Dean, though the small smile he gave him meant he wasn’t upset. 

Dean nodded, shimmying his butt forward and laying down on his blankets. He couldn’t remember when Castiel had laid them out, but the thought that he’d set them up sometime after he cooked, made Dean smile. 

Cas laid down beside him, laying on his side and facing Dean, a smile still on his lips as he reached up to turn off the flashlight. 

In the dark, Dean reached forward, finding Cas’ hand easily. He felt the other man’s hesitation for a moment, then smiled when Castiel threaded their fingers together. He didn’t know what to think, but everything was warm and pleasant and felt _right._

\-- 

Sometime in the night, Dean had drifted. It was warm in the closet, the heat from two grown men enough to make the thick, woolen blanket feel like a furnace, and he’d kicked a leg free to drape it over Castiel’s thighs. Castiel’s own sleeping bag was open, bunched down to his hips and his hand resting on Dean’s knee. 

Dean kind of wanted to stay there forever. 

He was half asleep, floating warm and happy, when a scream ripped him fully awake. Beside him, Castiel jerked up into a sitting position, immediately reaching for his weapon. Dean was quick behind him, forgoing the machete to grab his pistol. 

They held their breaths, listening, and heard another scream. This one was strangled, gurgling at the end, and it made Dean’s blood run cold. How did they get in? They killed every Lifeless in the storeroom, and he’d checked the kitchen himself! All of the doors were locked, the windows were too high… 

“Cover me,” Castiel whispered, walking forward on his knees to the closet door, reaching up to flick the lock to open. Dean closed his eyes for a moment, centering himself, before nodding and taking the safety off his gun. 

The sight that met them as the door opened was complete chaos, Dean’s gasp drowned out immediately by Castiel’s swearing. 

The makeshift fire pit was overturned, flames licking their way towards the cafe bar by way of the trio’s sleeping gear, the stools, and all of their clothing from the day before. Smoke was thick and black, clinging to the air, and it made Dean’s eyes water. On the ground, Uriel was crouched over Alfie’s body, though his spine was twisted in an unnatural way. Dean didn’t need to see his face to know why. 

Alfie’s legs were twitching, his feet falling lifelessly to the sides, and Castiel sucked in a breath as a sucking sound was heard before blood sprayed across the floor. Alfie was gone. But where was -

“Anna!” Dean hissed, grabbing Castiel’s shoulder and jerking him back as Anna flew around the open door, eyes bleeding and mouth open wide in a silent scream. Castiel fell against Dean’s legs, nearly knocking Dean back into the closet. 

Dean raised the pistol and fired as Anna’s body crashed into them. Dean was barely able to grab the door to stop himself from hitting the ground. Uriel was preoccupied, feasting on Alfie’s warm body, but Dean knew it wouldn’t be long before his attention turned. 

Castiel coughed, the sound harsh and grating, and Dean’s eyes left the horror before him to scan the wall and watch the flames spread. They needed to get out of there. 

“Grab your shit, Cas,” Dean said as he ripped his bag from the floor, bundling his arms full of their sleeping gear. Castiel nodded and grabbed his own bag, raising his pistol to Uriel’s head, letting off a single shot as they walked around Anna’s corpse. Uriel fell heavily over Alfie’s body and Castiel flinched once before turning away.

“The food,” Castiel said, but Dean shook his head. 

“Leave it.” 

Castiel looked at the remaining food, safe for now but much too close to the fire, and nodded, following after Dean through the door into the foyer. A sudden popping sound made them jump before the sprinkler system kicked in, water spraying in all directions from the ceiling. They ran the rest of the way to the doors, Castiel unlocking them quickly and the pair jogging away from the winery. 

At the edge of the grapevines, Dean collapsed into the dirt, grabbing handfuls of dried vines and grass in his hands. Slowly, Castiel lowered himself to sit beside Dean, both watching the building burn. He listened to the sounds of the glass popping, the wood creaking in protest as it was slowly eaten by the flames. Every exhale, Dean expected Castiel to tell him to get up, for them to keep moving. Every inhale, he tried to tell it to himself. 

They stayed there well through the afternoon, the building crumbling and burning before them. Castiel only stood up once when he thought the flames would ignite the grass, but the concrete patio and parking lot were more than enough to keep the fire at bay. 

Dean pulled his shirt off when the heat of the fire made him sweat, accepting the canteen from Castiel and drinking without question. Finally, he felt ready, ready to get up and continue moving in whatever daylight they had left. He opened his mouth to say so, but what came out was not what he expected. 

“My mom died in a fire.”

He felt Castiel turn his head to look, but Dean couldn’t move. 

“I was four… It started in Sammy’s nursery, electrical or something… and she didn’t make it out.” Dean blew out a shaky breath, finally slipping to the side, sharp pain shooting through his knees from being in the same position for so long. “Dad was able to get Sammy, hand him off to me, but Mom… I don’t know what she went back for. I don’t know what was so important she didn’t just…” Dean shook his head, looking down at the dirt on his hands. 

“Sometimes the things we do in times of crisis aren’t thought out,” Castiel answered softly. “As a mother, I am sure she wanted to make sure Sam, you, and your father were all safe. Perhaps she went to check each room.”

Dean nodded, swallowing thickly and reaching up to wipe his eyes. “They found her in the hallway outside of my room.”

Castiel just nodded, looking out over the ruined winery. 

“She would’ve been proud of you.” Castiel cleared his throat, shifting to get more comfortable in the dirt. Dean moved to sit beside him, finally looking at the mess before them. The flames were almost gone, though the scent of the thick smoke was still heavy in the air. 

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean whispered, finding Cas’ hand on the grass between them. Castiel turned his wrist, letting Dean lace their fingers together this time. They stayed there until the flames were out. 

—

Setting up camp was a quiet affair. They traveled further into the vineyard, the grapevines high enough to block them from view if anyone happened by. It was too close to nightfall for them to travel far, but Castiel was still coughing in a way that Dean didn’t like, and at the very least, they needed clean air. 

While Castiel pitched their tent and laid their sleeping gear across the bushes to hopefully air out, Dean traveled down a few rows and gathered bunches of grapes. The idea of starting a fire to cook anything made Dean cringe, and neither one of them had much of an appetite at this point. 

They sat outside of the tent and watched the sunset while slowly eating what Dean had gathered. When the grapes were gone and the bugs started incessant attempts at getting bites of flesh, they climbed into the tent, laying close enough that their shoulders were touching. 

As comforting as Castiel’s breath beside him was, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were missing something. 

“Why am I alive?” Dean whispered, breaking their silence. Beside him, he felt Castiel stiffen, the other man twisting to his side to face Dean. “I was attacked by a Lifeless too… I didn’t turn into one. Why didn’t I?” 

“Gabriel said there was a short incubation period before someone turns, where they’re able to infect others before they turn,” Castiel answered slowly, propping himself up to look at Dean. 

“Yes, but those Lifeless we killed… they were old, Cas. Hell, they were rotting.” He turned and met Castiel’s gaze, unashamed at the tears that he could feel burning his eyes. “Anna shouldn’t have turned. She shouldn’t have… Why, Cas? Why am I still alive and they’re not?” 

“Dean.” Castiel reached forward, cupping the side of Dean’s face. Dean squeezed his eyes shut in response, letting himself sink into the comfort for a moment before he pulled away. 

“I should be dead, Cas. You should’ve found me wandering the streets as a Lifeless, not as me.”

“Don’t you dare say that, Dean Winchester!” Castiel hissed, the gentle hand gone as he grabbed Dean’s chin and forced his head to the side so he had no choice but to meet Castiel’s eyes. “I don’t know why Anna and Uriel changed, but it is _not_ your fault. I don’t know where the hell that thought even came from!”

“Anna’s wound was just like mine, Cas. _Just_ like mine. So what makes me-”

“Stop,” Castiel ordered, shaking his head. “We don’t know if that’s what happened to Anna. For all we know, Uriel was the one who changed and he bit Anna. She could’ve escaped from him and turned afterwards.”

“Or Anna could’ve bitten Uriel! It could’ve been the opposite to that!”

“Dean, it doesn’t matter who turned who. It still doesn’t make it your fault! What happened back there is awful, there is absolutely nothing about this that is good. But that still doesn’t make it your fault. Gabriel was sure that the virus died after the host turns, it was only sustainable in temperatures above 100 degrees Fahrenheit.”

“But…” Dean shook his head, relaxing once more into Castiel’s touch instead of trying to pull away. “How, Cas?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel whispered back, his hand slipping from Dean’s face to lay on his arm as he laid back down. “Viruses are able to lay in a dormant state, so perhaps one of them had been previously infected. And Anna… when I stitched her up, she was feverish. I thought it was her body’s response to the bite but...”

Dean was quiet for a moment, mulling the thought over. “Anna was an oversharer,” Dean said finally, shaking his head. “If she believed one of them was immune, she would’ve blabbed that the moment we walked through the front doors.” 

“I honestly don’t have an answer,” Castiel said with a sigh, pulling away and sitting up to reach for his bag. “We ate the same things, we slept in the same area, we fought the same Lifeless.” He unzipped his bag and Dean heard the crinkling of a water bottle as Castiel pulled it free from their haphazard packing earlier. 

As the cap cracked open Dean sat up and ripped the bottle from Cas’ hands, the bottle ending up squeezed and water shooting up and soaking their blankets.

“Hey! What the hell, Dean?” 

“Don’t - I need - Cas, get a flashlight!” Dean ordered, squinting as he turned the bottle sideways, emptying out more of what little water was left. 

“Fuck, Dean!” Castiel hissed, jerking the blanket away and sighing as he dumped the wet mass in the corner of the tent. “What are you doing?” 

“Cas, please. Just… trust me.” 

Something in his voice gave way, and Castiel sighed but didn’t argue, instead turning to fish through their gear for the flashlight. When he flicked it on, he shined it on Dean’s lap, a brow raised as he waited for Dean to explain. 

“We ate the same food, we slept in the same area, we fought the same Lifeless,” Dean whispered, his thumb running over the printed label of the bottle. “But we didn’t drink the same water.”

Castiel inhaled sharply, his eyes widening as he looked down at the bottle in Dean’s hands. “What?” 

“Uriel was drinking this all night long, and Anna told me that they’d found a few bottles in the kitchen before we got into the supplies. Those Lifeless were in a storeroom with food and supplies that easily could’ve lasted them months, and yet… only four bottles of water were missing. Roman Springs,” Dean shook the bottle, Castiel flinching back from it, “is the kind of water Lisa bought. It’s what she would drink _every_ day after her run.”

“Roman Spring Water is one of the leading bottled water companies in the world,” Castiel whispered. “It would’ve reached billions of people around the globe. What source is that spring?” 

Dean turned the bottle over, Castiel moving the flashlight closer to him. “Uh, Disko Bay, Greenland. That’s where his biggest spring source was. Remember those commercials with Trump about how ‘Global warming wasn’t real’ because his spring water came from the icebergs?” 

Castiel reached up, starting to run a hand over his mouth before he jerked back, staring at his fingers. He wiped them on his jeans, shaking his head as he said, “I can’t… water gets tested, though. It goes through - Gabriel said the virus was easy to spot under a microscope, there’s no way a water filtration -”

“Maybe… he did it on purpose?” Dean suggested, both of them falling silent as they looked down at the empty bottle between them. 

“I can’t imagine, even someone as barbaric as Dick Roman, causing the end of the world…” Castiel whispered. Dean just shrugged in response. Roman was up there on his list of people he couldn’t stand listening to, right beside President Trump. They were power hungry, ruthless and reckless with their words. They were blinded by their own selfish greed and imagined importance. Roman attempting to poison the world was believable, simply because -

“I bet he has a cure,” Dean said with a slight laugh, shaking his head. “Or at least he thought he did. I bet you he unleashed a virus he thought he could contain and had a cure at the ready, something people would spend every last penny they had to either save themselves or cure their loved ones.”

Dean heard Castiel’s throat click as he swallowed, the flashlight clicking off next and plunging them into darkness. Dean sat still as Castiel unzipped the tent, crawling forward to empty the bottles of water he’d managed to stash away in their bags far away from them. 

When the tent was zipped back up, they moved around silently, salvaging whatever wasn’t too wet to lay beneath them and pulling on extra clothing to keep warm. As they settled back down, Castiel’s voice was so soft, Dean was almost sure he’d imagined it. 

“Do you think he meant to end the world?” 

Dean reached over and found Castiel’s hand, holding onto it just as tightly as Castiel held his.


	5. If Tomorrow Comes

****

**If Tomorrow Comes**

_“What we have once enjoyed  
we can never lose.  
All that we love deeply  
becomes a part of us.”  
Helen Keller_

**Montello, Wisconsin  
43.770892, -89.157527**

Five days had passed since the fire and they’d covered nearly two hundred miles lost in a strange state of emotions. Dean wasn’t sure what he was feeling one moment to the next; he switched from white hot anger, to despair, to being completely content before he could even comprehend what he was truly thinking. He was giving himself whiplash, and he would’ve been concerned for the range of emotions he was projecting onto Castiel if the other man hadn’t appeared to be doing the exact same thing. 

Without concrete proof, their discovery of the bottled water and Roman Springs was simply theory. They didn’t know for _sure_ that it was the water that turned Uriel and Anna, but Dean’s gut told him there was no doubt. While Dean warred with the idea that someone like Dick fucking Roman would try to hurt billions of people for some sort of twisted monetary gain, Castiel seemed to feel guilty over the lives he was unable to save, his gaze lingering on the empty houses and makeshift memorials longer with each one they passed. 

It didn’t give them much time to contemplate the change in their relationship, either. 

When Dean allowed himself to think about it, he felt another swarm of emotions - joy, disbelief, guilt, excitement, shame. He’d never felt this way so quickly about another person before, not even Lisa. And what even were he and Lisa? Her death was still fresh when he gave himself permission to think of it; she was - had been - everything to him. Were they broken up? Was he widowed? Was he betraying their relationship by even thinking of starting another one? It made him anxious, it made him miss her, and it made him wish he’d never think of her again. 

Still, every night they sat beside a small fire and ate together, Castiel taking first watch while Dean set up their sleeping gear. Castiel had yet to say anything about how close they slept now, and he sure as hell didn’t move further away when Dean laid close beside him, curling into Cas’ side to sleep. Maybe it was comforting just to be near another person, but Dean didn’t question it either when Castiel laid down to sleep with his hand on Dean’s leg. 

Dean shivered as he sat up, reaching behind himself to tuck the sleeping bag around Cas’ shoulders so the cold air wouldn’t rush in and wake him. Castiel’s breath hitched before he continued snoring softly, with each exhale releasing a small puff Dean could see. They really needed to get warmer gear… 

Picking up his blanket, Dean wrapped it around his shoulders and climbed to the door of the tent, unzipping it enough to slip through. He stretched then set about stirring up the coals from the night before, relieved that some of the embers were still glowing. He grabbed a few sticks from their small firewood pile and laid them on the coals, leaning down to blow over them until a flame caught. With any luck, they would burn quickly and he could get breakfast heated up before Cas woke. 

Dean moved around the large tree they had pitched the tent in front of, reaching for the rope they’d fastened as a pulley up in the branches to keep their backpacks off the ground. He picked through his bag quickly, pulling out two empty tin cans, coffee, and some packages of oatmeal before shaking the canteen. Sighing, Dean laid their breakfast down in the leaves and hoisted the bags back up. He needed to fill the canteens, but leaving the food bag down was just asking for trouble. 

Laying his blanket down by the front of the tent, Dean set off towards the lake. They’d passed a few camping areas that were full of RVs, but neither one of them were comfortable enough to stop and check them out. The small housing developments they bypassed seemed empty, but they pushed forward and chose to pitch their tent on a small peninsula jutting into the Puckaway Lake. 

He blew out a slow breath as he leaned down to fill the canteens, the cool water rushing over his fingers. He had a moment of panic - _What if it’s not just Roman Springs that is contaminated? What if this lake carries the virus as well and I am subjecting Cas to it?_ But he forced the thought away and straightened up, screwing the cap on tight. They’d taken to being especially careful since the vineyard. Castiel boiled all of their drinking and cooking water twice before allowing them to use it. It made packing up and traveling take longer as they waited for the water to cool enough to refill the canteens, but the peace of mind was worth it. 

As Dean trudged back through the trees, he heard something that made him stop, his heart hammering in his chest. He listened, frozen, as another twig to the left of him snapped. Whatever was moving towards him was heavy and trying its hardest to be quiet. He swallowed hard, cursing himself for not having grabbed a weapon when he left their camp. 

Ahead, he could just make out the bright orange top of the tent and he had only a second to consider calling out for Cas or running when a second snap to his right made the decision for him. Dean bolted, running towards the tent as fast as he could. 

“Ca-!” Dean started to call out when suddenly something hit him from behind, wrapping around his legs and making him fall down hard. He landed in the leaves with a thud, a mouthful of dirt making him gag. He lifted his head, ready to scream Cas’ name, when he was met with the end of a gun between his eyes. 

“Don’t,” a man said, his deep baritone and British lilt leaving no room for argument. “Get up, slowly. And do be quiet about it.”

Dean gritted his teeth and braced himself against the earth, pushing up until he was kneeling before the man. He let his gaze trail up until he met the man’s amused expression. He was older than Dean, probably a few years older than Castiel, and wore complete riot gear. His leather-gloved hands were wrapped around a .45 complete with a suppressor attached. 

The man’s stance was wide, confident, and Dean was immediately hit with military vibes. He clenched his hands into fists to keep them from shaking and held his head up high, meeting the man’s eyes straight on. 

The stranger’s eyes narrowed a fraction before Dean saw stars, pain blistering across his forehead, and he found himself back down in the leaves. “Oh look,” the man said with an exaggerated sigh, “you got blood on my gun.” 

Dean felt his stomach twist, the nausea immediate along with the pounding in his head. He struggled to push himself back up onto his knees. “What-” he stopped, saliva thick in his throat. He coughed and closed his eyes, fingernails digging into the meat of his palms. “What do you want?” 

“Why, only all of your things of course. This is survival of the fittest, after all.” 

“You can’t-”

With the second pistol whip, Dean was afraid he would black out. He coughed into the leaves, a gag caught in his throat as he twisted, trying to get away from the man instead. 

“I don’t think you’re in any position to tell me what I can and cannot do.” 

Dean breathed out heavily, crawling forward on his stomach. He had to find a way to warn Cas, even if this man was going to kill him, he _had_ to save Cas. With his arms shaking, he pushed up enough to lift his head, the cry for help swallowed abruptly as the man’s boot came down between his shoulders. 

“Leave him alone.”

Tears burned Dean’s eyes and he shook his head, groaning at the sudden wave of dizziness. No, Cas needed to _run_. He tried to look up, tried to tell him he was being stupid and to escape, but nothing came out. 

“I’ll shoot him,” the man said calmly, completely unphased by Cas’ appearance. 

“Yeah?” Castiel challenged, his voice like steel. “I’ll shoot _him_.” 

“Ketch…” a second British voice whispered, though it lacked all the confidence of the man standing on Dean’s back. The pressure released slowly and Dean took the chance to glance up, seeing Castiel standing before them, his hand around a tall man’s throat and gun pressed against his temple. He looked furious; his eyes dangerous as he stared down the man standing over Dean. 

“I will shoot him,” Castiel repeated, “and then I will shoot you. I won’t miss.” 

“Do you honestly believe I won’t-?”

“Call my bluff,” Castiel cut him off, the sound of the safety clicking off loud in the silence of the woods. Dean forced himself not to close his eyes, keeping his gaze locked on Castiel. Despite the other man not looking at him, he knew Castiel’s complete attention was on him. The man in Castiel’s grasp, however, was not so strong and he flinched, his eyes squeezing shut. 

“It would appear we are at an impasse.” 

Castiel shook his head slowly, his eyes narrowing. “No, we’re not,” he answered. “You are going to remove yourself from our camp immediately, and take your friend with you. Then, I won’t have to kill either one of you.” 

“Well, as much as that sounds like a good plan for you, it doesn’t work for me. You see, my friend here is gravely injured. And while Mick and I have had such a wonderful run together -”

“Ketch, no!” the man in Castiel’s grip gasped and tried to twist free. The sound of the gun going off made Dean’s entire body tense, but it wasn’t until two more shots rang out that pain erupted down Dean’s leg. 

He could hear himself scream, felt a body fall beside him, spraying him with blood and leaves. The sound of footsteps running towards him on the leaves was muffled, same as his name falling from Cas’ lips over and over again. 

He felt Cas’ hands on his cheeks, his vision blurred as he tried to focus on Cas’ face. The last thing he heard was Castiel’s broken voice, “Dean, fuck, Dean… You’re okay, you have to be okay…” and his last thought was of how fucking blue Castiel’s eyes were. 

**Markesan, Wisconsin  
43.747204, -89.185548**

The first thing Dean was aware of was heat. 

It was overwhelming, burning him up from the inside out and he was helpless to move away from its onslaught. Every inch of him was on fire and he gasped, shaking as he tried to twist away from the invisible source. 

“Dean?” a woman’s soft voice broke through his struggle and he froze, listening. 

“Mom?” 

“Castiel! It’s Dean! Something’s wrong!”

Dean fought to open his eyes, to see his mom, but hands smoothed over his cheeks, cooling some of the fire in his brow, and he relaxed into them, breathing out a sigh of relief. His mom was here, everything would be okay. 

\--

“Dean?” 

Dean groaned as he felt gentle but firm hands pressing against him, pulling him up from the shoulders. His entire body fought against the change in position and he groaned, collapsing back against the hands holding him up. 

Castiel made a soft noise of protest, his voice strained as he asked, “Can you get his other side? He’s too weak.” 

A second set of hands joined Castiel’s and then pillows were shoved behind him, propping him up into a sitting position. Dean’s eyes felt like they were glued shut and he barely managed to open one before there was a warm, wet cloth running over his face. 

“Do you think he’ll stay awake this time?” a woman’s voice asked, and Dean turned his head to the side trying to open his eyes to see who it was. 

“He’s more alert,” Castiel replied, his hands gentle as they moved the cloth over the rest of Dean’s face and his neck. Dean shivered at the touch, his skin felt weird, and he clenched his teeth as he forced his eyes open. Castiel was leaning over him, a concerned look on his brow that immediately smoothed out once their eyes locked. 

“Hello, Dean,” he said softly, his eyes glistening and his smile gentle. Dean found himself smiling back, for a moment everything was okay. Then, the pain was back and he grimaced, prompting Castiel into action. 

“Here,” the woman said and Castiel reached over Dean, coming back with a cup that he lifted to Dean’s lips. 

“Drink,” Castiel ordered and Dean tried his best. With a few false starts, coughing and nearly dumping half of the drink on his lap, he finally managed to take a few swallows and it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. When Castiel deemed he’d drunk enough, he allowed Dean to collapse back into the pillows with a sigh.

As Castiel turned around and disappeared out of Dean’s line of sight, Dean took the moment to look around. He was in a house, and sunlight was pouring in through the large windows. It would’ve been a comfortable, inviting space under normal circumstances. The house was decorated with pictures of a family on the wall, little knick knacks and wooden plaques with “Home is Where the Heart is” and “Live, Laugh, Love” hanging over the doorways. But there was medical equipment everywhere - a metal IV pole, a wheelchair, cardboard boxes of wipes, diapers, and something labeled ‘disposable chucks’. He glanced in the direction Castiel had gone, but couldn’t see him. As he looked the other way, he was met with the gentle smile of a woman sitting beside him. 

“Hi,” she said with a smile. “I’m Kelly.” 

Dean gave a small nod, though he didn’t introduce himself. It was obvious she knew who he was, and Castiel being comfortable with her was enough of a reassurance for him. She reached forward, patting his arm and Dean realized he was shirtless. 

“Your fever broke last night,” Kelly offered, removing her hand to reach for the blanket he was covered in and pulling it up to his shoulders. “Are you cold? Jack!” she called out, leaning away from Dean. “Hey, Jack! Can you bring me another blanket?” 

Dean’s eyes must’ve shut again because he opened them once he heard shuffling towards the end of the bed. A boy was standing by Dean’s feet, probably sixteen or seventeen years old, with an oversized quilt folded in his arms. He gave Dean a genuine smile, and despite him being close to an adult in age, there was something childlike about him. 

“Thank you, Jack,” Kelly said as she accepted the blanket and smoothed it over Dean’s body. 

“Mom,” Jack cleared his throat, his eyes darting from Dean to his mom, brow furrowing, “you need to rest. I’ll help Cas take care of Dean.”

“No, I’m okay baby,” Kelly answered, glancing up. Dean watched her for a moment and realized she looked about as tired and beat up as he felt. 

“He’s right, Kelly,” Castiel said as he returned. Dean turned to look at him, watching as he dragged a chair forward to sit at Dean’s side, a steaming mug in his hands. “We’ve got this. I will wake you if we need anything.” 

Kelly let her eyes trail over all of them before she nodded, giving a tight smile. She allowed Jack to help her stand and Dean waited until they left the room before he turned to Cas. “What-” he paused, unsure what he wanted to ask first. With a small laugh he decided Cas could decide which order to answer. “What’s wrong with Kelly? Where are we? What happened? Are you okay?” 

Castiel smiled fondly at him and lifted the mug up, blowing on it gently before holding it out to Dean. “Drink this and I’ll explain,” he said, helping Dean untangle from the blankets to grab the mug with both hands. The ceramic was warm and he tentatively let the liquid touch his lips before he deemed it safe enough to drink. The rush of salty broth made his stomach growl and he took a huge swallow before looking at Cas expectantly. 

Castiel watched him for a moment, and then nodded. “That… _man_ , if you can even call him that, is gone. They both are. After he shot his partner, I was shocked. It was not what I had expected to happen and it made me hesitate. I shouldn’t have… and because I did, he was able to fire off a shot at you before I took him down.”

“It’s not your fault,” Dean said softly, letting a hand drop to find Castiel’s on the top of the covers. 

“I appreciate you saying so,” Castiel answered, though Dean knew he didn’t believe it. “I saw him take aim and I fired, causing his shot to go wide. The bullet went through your thigh,” Castiel glanced down at their hands, a small smile playing at his lips before he let his gaze trail down the length of Dean’s body, “but with Kelly and Jack’s help, we were able to get it all out.

“Jack was out on the lake fishing when he heard the shots. I don’t know what possessed him to come searching for the source - he just said he ‘felt it was important’ - but I’m glad he did. He helped me get you to the boat and to his home. That’s where we are now, Kelly and Jack’s. They own a resort on the river, cabins and such they used to rent - though Kelly says most of them are empty now except for a few family friends.”

“Are we safe here?” Dean asked, waiting for Cas to meet his eyes. “I mean, are we _actually_ safe or do we need to go as soon as possible?”

“They’re good people,” Castiel answered, nodding his head. “No rush. Once you’re healed enough to travel, we’ll continue on to Sam.”

Dean nodded, satisfied with the answer. He lifted the mug to his lips once more. The warmth from the broth did wonders to help wake him up and he found he was able to hold his head up on his own without depending on the stack of pillows for support. 

Jack returned and took Kelly’s vacated chair, sinking into it with a weary sigh. Dean glanced over at Castiel, seeing the other man watching Jack with a sad smile. “Is she okay?” Castiel asked, causing Jack to look up. 

“She’s tired. Every day is getting harder.” 

Dean swallowed hard, knowing he was missing something but afraid to ask. Instead, he lifted the mug and drank the rest of his broth, before falling back with a contented sigh. His eyes were growing heavy and everything felt warm. Beside him, Castiel took the mug and smoothed the blanket over him. 

“I put some pain medication in there,” Castiel admitted, giving half a shrug as Dean tried his best to glare at him. “You need to rest, Dean.”

“You’re not s’posed to drug people.” Dean’s mouth felt thick, his tongue heavy and he allowed Jack and Castiel to reposition him on the bed. “Asshole…”

\--

Once Dean was awake, the week passed quickly. He played cards with Jack in the mornings while Castiel and Kelly slept well past the sunrise, sharing a pot of coffee between them. The kid was smart and sheltered, but he had a heart of gold. It was a breath of fresh air compared to the last couple of people they’d encountered. 

At night, the families from the cabins would check in. They all shared resources and brought their different skills together. It was how they’d survived for so long. Dean didn’t learn all of their names - not because he didn’t find it important, but because he was too exhausted and no one seemed to mind when he smiled and addressed them with “Hey”. Castiel was much better at remembering everyone’s names, their families, and their jobs - both pre and post world’s end. Dean found himself watching Castiel more than anything else, and if people chalked that up to him being on pain medication, well, Dean was okay with that. 

During the days, Kelly and Jack moved around the house, talking in hushed voices. Between his mornings with Jack and talking with Castiel, and the short moments he had with Kelly before she went to bed exhausted, he gathered that Kelly was sick. She had survived cancer years ago, although she lost her husband in the process, and it had been her and Jack since he was just two. This past year, she received the news that she was no longer in remission. The cancer had metastasized, and while Dean didn’t know very much about cancer, he knew that it didn’t sound good. 

Jack had taken it upon himself to raid the local clinic after the end and stolen boxes of medical supplies. It was how the little house was so well stocked and why there was a medical bed sitting in the middle of the dining room. But the hope Jack had that the stolen supplies would save his mother had long since faded. Jack knew his mom wasn’t going to make it. Their entire little community did. 

This morning, Castiel was up before Dean was, moving slowly around the kitchen as he prepared them coffee and breakfast. Jack was sitting at the end of the island, his head in his hands. Silently, Castiel pushed a mug of hot coffee towards him glancing up to meet Dean’s eyes. 

Jack reached for it but made no other move, his shoulders stiff as if he were just barely holding himself together. Dean knew what that meant. Slowly, he peeled himself up from the bed, gritting his teeth at the stiffness in his leg. While the gunshot wound was healing, the mornings were by far the worst. He stretched the leg out, wincing at the movements, before joining Castiel and Jack at the island, accepting a mug of coffee with a nod. 

Jack was the one to break the silence, his voice shaking slightly as he asked, “Who did you lose?” 

Dean glanced at him, blowing out a slow and steady breath. He hadn’t talked about Lisa in so long… As he struggled to find the words, he was surprised to hear Castiel answer first. 

“His name was Inias.” Jack looked up, giving Castiel his full attention. “We met in college, years ago, and he changed my life. Where I was studious and focused, Inias was wild and chaotic. He pulled me out of the carefully structured boring life I was leading, introduced me to fun, and helped me to find myself.” 

“So you had been together since college?” Jack asked the question that was on the tip of Dean’s tongue. 

Castiel gave a small chuckle and shook his head. “No, we weren’t together in college. He was my best friend and I was still coming to terms with my own sexuality at the time. He helped me figure that out, too, but during our college years he was in a long-term relationship. No, he looked me up after my residency was completed, and we had just started dating last year.” Castiel gave a small smile, picking at the handle of his coffee mug. “I was going to ask him to move in with me.”

Dean looked down at the counter, a feeling of sadness for Castiel washing over him. Castiel deserved to be happy, deserved to have Inias, his best friend and his lover, here in his life. Dean hated that Castiel lost him. As if he could read his mind, Castiel reached across the countertop and laid his hand over Dean’s wrist. 

Dean looked up as Castiel gave him a squeeze, but Castiel’s eyes were still focused on Jack. “I miss him,” Castiel admitted. “He had so much life in him; sometimes I wonder why he was taken and not me. But I know that he would’ve wanted me to keep fighting, to move on. I try to live by that every day that I am given.”

“Were you with him when he passed?” Jack asked and Dean bit his lower lip, holding his breath for the answer. He and Castiel had never really talked about Inias or Lisa together, only in passing. 

“No, I was at the hospital when the city really started to fall, and Inias was in the National Guard. We…” Castiel trailed off and cleared his throat, his hand slipping from Dean’s wrist to pick up his coffee mug. “We heard over the radio that the military had fallen.”

“I’m sorry that you lost him,” Jack said softly and Castiel smiled back at him, nodding his head. 

The three of them fell silent for a moment and Dean looked around the small kitchen, noticing signs of Kelly in every corner. He knew from experience what it was like to lose a mom, and while Jack had been lucky enough to spend many years with his, the pain was still one and the same. He thought of how his father never let go of losing Mary. Their mom was a constant reminder in the Winchester family until even her memory had become tainted and dark. It wasn’t until they’d moved away from their dad and into Uncle Bobby’s that Dean was able to really grieve for his mother, and that was twelve years after she’d passed. 

He didn’t want that to happen again, for any of them. 

“Hey, Jack?” Dean asked. “Do you have any candles?”

They spent the remainder of the day cleaning the cabin in silence, closing it up as if they were going away on a long vacation. They left Kelly’s room as it was but moved around the rest of the house as if she was only sleeping. By nightfall, four of the families had come to pay their respects and say goodbye, each of them inviting Jack to live with them. With each offer he refused, Dean itched to ask Jack what his plan was. As they gathered their candles and walked outside to the docks, Dean met Cas’ eyes behind Jack’s back and knew they were in complete agreement. 

They weren’t leaving him. 

The October air was crisp without the sun and they were grateful for the blankets they’d thought to bring out with them. The night itself was still and quiet, not even a whisper of the wind. Jack stepped surefooted over the rocky path down to the water and turned left to a private dock. 

Castiel and Dean followed him, Dean shuffling much slower and grateful for Cas’ steady hand on his arm, keeping him from stumbling. They took Jack’s cue once they reached the dock and sat on either side of him. Since it was too cold to stick their feet in the water, they sat back on the dock with enough room for the candles to sit on the wood before them. 

Castiel took the lighter first, a flame flicking to life with a click. He raised his candle and exhaled slowly. “To Inias. The best man I knew and one who I aspire to be like. He was strong, capable, and funny as hell. And he is missed.”

“To Inias,” Dean and Jack repeated, the three of them watching the candle as Castiel lowered it back down to the dock. They watched it burn for a moment, letting Castiel get lost in his thoughts and memories before he handed the lighter over to Dean. 

Dean held his breath as he picked up his candle, suddenly finding that his eyes were swimming with tears. Beside him, Jack shifted, his knee pressing against Dean’s knee. Whether it was deliberate or not, Dean wasn’t sure, but he took comfort in it all the same. 

“To Lisa,” Dean said softly, igniting the lighter and touching the fire to the wick. “She was the first woman to show me what an adult relationship should be like. She loved me through my faults, showed me my strengths, and made me a better man. She believed in me even when I didn’t. And she allowed me to play a part in raising her son.”

Dean cleared his throat, the candle shaking in his hand as he dropped the lighter between his legs. “And this is for Ben. The son I never knew I wanted. He taught me that despite the way I grew up, I was a damn good Dad. He was smart as a whip, loving, and compassionate. He had a better taste in music then his mother and he-” Dean’s voice wavered and he cleared his throat again, closing his eyes tight. “Despite his life being cut short, he lived what he had to the fullest. I miss him, every day.” 

“To Lisa and Ben,” Castiel and Jack said softly, watching as Dean placed his candle down. He felt the tear slip down his cheek but ignored it. He let himself feel the grief that was rolling through him, and the comforting relief of finally being able to say goodbye. 

When he handed the lighter over to Jack, the younger man let out a shaky breath, staring down at his candle. His throat clicked as he swallowed and shook his head, looking over at Castiel. “What if I’m not ready?”

Slowly, Castiel reached over and took the lighter from his fingers, returning to lay his hand over Jack’s on the candle. “Then we’ll wait. When you’re ready, we’ll light a candle for her.”

Jack smiled and nodded, holding onto the wax like a lifeline. The two lit candles flickered and danced, an easy calm falling over them all. Finally, Jack spoke again. “My mom told me I would have to choose… that she didn’t want me to stay here in the house by myself after she was gone. I know most of the families have offered for me to live with them but…” Jack gave a small shrug, looking over at Dean this time. “I don’t want to stay with any of them.” 

Dean nodded, giving Jack a small smile. “You’re welcome to join us, Jack. If that’s what you want.”

The smile that Jack returned was almost enough to counteract the feeling of sadness that hung over them all. Dean met Castiel’s gaze over Jack’s head and found himself smiling too. 

“Is it too soon to pack?” Jack asked, already pushing up off the dock. “Mom and I organized the shed when this all started happening…”

“We can go through that in the morning,” Castiel answered gently. “Tonight, set out your personal belongings and get some sleep. Dean and I will be in soon after you.”

“Okay!” Jack said as he moved backwards down the dock and then towards the short path, his mother’s candle clenched tight in his hands. When he was out of sight, Dean turned his head and found Castiel was already looking at him, a strange expression on his face. 

“What?” Dean whispered, shifting closer at the same time Castiel did. 

“This is probably poor taste,” Castiel admitted, glancing at their burning candles. “But I know Inias would kick my ass if I-” He stopped and shook his head. “Dean, usually I would find a way to express myself that didn’t sound so juvenile. But we’re living in the apocalypse and I have always been blunt.” A small smile graced his lips as he glanced up to hold Dean’s gaze. “These past few weeks traveling with you have been amazing and the way I felt when I thought I almost lost you… I can’t do that again, not without you knowing how I feel.”

Dean tried to keep his cool, but he felt the ridiculous smile slowly spread over his lips. “And… how is that?” 

Castiel huffed a small laugh, reaching forward to take Dean’s hand in his own. “Call me crazy, but I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with you.” 

“I am pretty awesome,” Dean replied, earning himself a glare. 

“I take it back. I don’t like you at-”

Dean silenced him by pressing their lips together, his free hand sliding over the side of Castiel’s throat and pulling them together. Castiel gave a small sigh, almost melting into Dean’s touch. They kissed, unrushed, until Dean shifted forward and pulled on his wound. Despite trying to stifle it, he hissed into Castiel’s mouth.

“Dean?” Castiel whispered, pulling back and looking at him in alarm. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied quickly, pulling Castiel in again. The other man was hesitant, his kisses softer although no less interested. “I’m fine, Cas. Really. It’s just my damn leg.”

Castiel pulled away, squeezing Dean’s hands as he shifted back. Dean took the invitation for what it was, turning and stretching his legs out, and leaning back against Castiel’s chest. While part of him was disappointed that he’d ruined their kissing, lying with Castiel’s arms holding him tight was something just as beautiful. 

Softly, his hand running slowly over the center of Dean’s chest, Castiel said, “If you could refrain from getting shot again, I would really appreciate it.” 

“At least I have my very own Doctor Sexy to take care of me,” Dean quipped back, reaching up to cover Castiel’s hand. Castiel huffed a small laugh and Dean felt him shake his head, seconds before he felt the brush of his lips against his brow.

They sat on the dock until the candles were burned down, effectively leaving their past behind. As they walked hand in hand back to Jack and Kelly’s house, Dean was excited to see what tomorrow would bring. 

\--

The morning came fast. Jack puttered around the kitchen, restless in his excitement for a change of scenery. It made Dean smile, despite not wanting to move from the nest of blankets he and Castiel had made of their sleeping gear on the living room floor. Castiel seemed to have the same idea. Quietly laughing at the sight of Jack humming to himself, he wrapped his arms around Dean and held him close. 

They did, however, have to get moving. At the very least, they needed a plan for what they were going to do next. Dean’s leg was still healing, and while he was sure he could manage to travel on foot, he knew that covering the average forty miles a day they’d been doing before he was wounded was an unrealistic goal. Twenty, maybe, as long as Castiel’s supply of pain meds lasted, and he didn’t tear the wound open. 

Jack must’ve heard them moving around because it wasn’t even a minute later that the younger man jumped over the back of the couch, the thing protesting with a screech of springs. 

“I already went to the shed! I pulled all of the camping gear to the front and Mom had kept boxes of Dad’s old clothing. Some of it fit both of you if you wanted to look.” 

With the promise of coffee, Dean and Castiel untangled themselves and folded their sleeping gear. They took turns relieving themselves and brushing their teeth, bundling up in the layers of clothing they had, before heading outside into the cool morning. 

Above them, a flock of Canada Geese honked their way overhead, making their presence known as they flew south for the winter. Dean watched them for a moment, envious for how they could simply fly where they wanted to go and make it there quickly. He never was a fan of flying, but it would’ve made this trip across the country much faster…

“Over here are the bins of clothes,” Jack was saying from in the shed and Dean forced his attention back down to Earth, following after him. Jack was in a back corner, dragging a large, blue tub free from a stack, but Castiel was on the opposite side, his head cocked curiously. 

“Jack… is this all gasoline?” Castiel asked in surprise, picking up a red, five-gallon gas can. Dean pushed up onto his toes to peer over the stack of boxes and equipment and saw six more jugs. 

“Oh!” Jack said as he stood up, crossing over to where Castiel was. “Yes! Mom was always paranoid about running out so she stocked up. We go through a lot of it between plowing and mowing.”

Dean’s eyes widened and he found himself smiling. “Jack? Where is your mom’s car?” 

They spent the rest of the morning picking out warmer winter clothes for Dean and Castiel, packing a bag for Jack, and replenishing their camping and food supplies. The extra gas cans were stacked carefully in the trunk and covered with a tarp. While Jack ran back inside to grab his mom’s candle, Dean spread the map out over the front of the car. 

“We have gas now,” he said, glancing up at Castiel. “We could go south and skirt around Chicago, or we could try and go north. I don’t know what the Canadian border is going to look like.”

Castiel hummed softly, leaning over the map. “I’m worried about most of these cities.” He drew his finger across Indianapolis, Cincinnati, Columbus, and Pittsburg. “While we can theoretically avoid everything except Cleveland if we stay slightly north of them, something in my gut tells me that this entire area is going to be a hot zone.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck as he tracked the journey via the Great Lakes. “Well, if we head off this way and head north of Detroit, we’ll still have to go through Buffalo.”

Castiel worried his bottom lip, glaring down at the map, and Dean was half-afraid the pages between them would suddenly combust into flames. Castiel let out a frustrated groan and stepped away, running his hands through his hair before gripping it tightly. 

“What if we make the wrong choice here, Dean? What if we go to the lakes and can’t find a boat? It's October! We’re not going to jet ski across a hundred miles of open water. _Especially_ not with your wound.” Castiel sighed, shaking his head before tipping it back slightly to watch yet another flock of geese fly overhead. “If we travel south and end up trapped because all of the major cities around here have dominated the roadways, and we get lost or pushed way off track, or have to cross through a city and one of us gets-”

“Whoa, Cas,” Dean said softly, stepping away from the car and closing the distance between them. He reached up and slid his hands over Castiel’s cheeks, the other man’s teeth clicking as he snapped his mouth shut and met Dean’s eyes. “You’re panicking.” Castiel dropped his arms in defeat, his hair a mess from yanking on handfuls of it.

“I can’t see you hurt again,” Castiel whispered and Dean felt him swallow. “I can’t see Jack hurt.” 

“No matter where we go, or what we do, there are going to be risks, Cas. And… I can’t stay here. I _have_ to keep going.”

“No, no, I know,” Castiel shook his head in Dean’s hands, reaching up to cover them with his own. “I wasn’t suggesting we stay here. I’m just…”

“Me too, Cas,” Dean reassured him, leaning forward and kissing him softly. “But I have your back, and so does Jack. You have ours. We will cross whatever bridge we come to, and we will do it smart. We’ll make sure all of us are on the same page no matter what happens.”

“Okay,” Castiel exhaled slowly, nodding his head. “I think we should stick with our original plan. Let’s head towards the lake.”

Dean smiled and nodded, turning his head to see Jack leaning against the side of the car, eyes trained on the map but very clearly eavesdropping. 

“That okay with you, buddy? You’re part of this team, too!”

Jack jumped slightly at being addressed and his cheeks pinked as he nodded. “I’ve never seen any of the Great Lakes, but I love being on a boat.”

“Alright then,” Dean said as he pulled away from Cas and walked over to Jack, clapping him on the shoulder as he folded up the map. “Let's get a move on.”


	6. Welcome to the Jungle

**Welcome to the Jungle**

_“In individuals: insanity is rare:  
but in groups, parties, nations  
and epochs, it is the rule.”  
Friedrich Nietzsche_

**Sheboygan, Wisconsin  
43.751019, -87.703481**

“Alright, that’s it, we need to find a ferry,” Dean said. He ran his hands over the steering wheel, leaning back into the seat before turning his head to look at Castiel. The other man rolled his eyes but had a smile on his face and Dean laughed. “Come on, Cas! Unless you’re relenting on the jet skis…”

“Dean, we are _not_ finding jet skis.”

“I bet a jet ski would be fun to ride!” Jack piped up from the backseat. His fingers pinched Castiel’s shirt when he grabbed the back of the seat and hauled himself forward. “Though, it would be hard to keep all of our things dry…”

“You’re both ridiculous,” Castiel mumbled, turning to look out the front window. The drive had taken almost three hours with Dean having to reroute them several times to get around blockages in the roadways and steer them clear of cities that looked dangerous. Smaller towns were usually bare, but the countryside was flat, making it easy for them to see groups of Lifeless in fields. Driving, however, had given them the ability to see more of how the Lifeless acted.

The creatures, although seemingly more aggressive towards the human species, were hungry for flesh of any kind. They’d come upon a farm, cows screaming in panic as a horde of Lifeless broke through the enclosure and descended upon their prey. Dean sat idling for a moment, a new sense of dread washing over him.

How was society going to rebuild if every living creature was in danger? _What if the animals could turn?_ The thought made him shiver and he whispered his fear aloud in the safety of the car. Castiel had simply shaken his head slowly, watching as a second cow was taken down.

Now they were parked near a boat ramp in the parking lot of the Sheboygan Youth Sailing Center. The proposition to find a ferry wasn’t necessarily a joke, either. While the Hyundai Tucson they’d taken from Kelly’s house was definitely not Baby, just being on four wheels again and able to roll down the windows and feel the wind whipping at his face? God, Dean missed driving.

“We will find another car when we get to the other side,” Castiel promised softly, reaching over to take one of Dean’s hands off of the steering wheel, squeezing it in his own.

Jack pushed further between them, ducking his head down to look beneath the rearview mirror. Ahead of them, the lake stretched out as far as they could see. If Dean hadn’t known better, he would’ve believed they were on the coast, staring out at the ocean. “Do you think any of those boats are empty?”

Dean followed Jack’s gaze. There were twelve boats in front of them, small sailboats that wouldn’t give them the cover they would need to cross the entire lake. Further out, floating on the water, were several larger cabin cruisers.

“We’re going to need one of those,” Dean said as he pointed toward the lake. “We need something that will protect us.”

Jack was quiet for a moment, his eyes scanning the water. “How long do you think it will take us to get across?”

Dean shrugged, turning to look at Castiel. The expression Castiel shot back mirrored exactly what Dean was thinking. They had no idea.

“I think it's going to depend on the boat we’re able to get,” Castiel answered finally, turning to meet Jack’s gaze, “and how fast we can go. We should probably find a place to set up for the night and get a working boat in the morning. The sun is going to set in about an hour.”

Dean ruefully agreed, looking around the parking lot. It appeared quiet, but they were definitely out in the open. “Where do you suggest?”

“I would like to stay as close to the marina as we can,” Castiel admitted, turning in the seat to look out the side and rear windows. “We could try to break into the youth center, see if anything is in there?”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, they all looked up to see the main doors of the aforementioned building swing open. A group of three men were walking out laughing, and Dean felt himself tense up in surprise and alarm.

“They seem friendly!” Jack said happily, dropping back into his seat and reaching for the door.

“Jack, wait!” Dean warned, but Jack was already out of the car, the movement stopping the men in their tracks.

“Fuck,” Castiel swore, withdrawing his handgun and whipping the door open, reaching out to grab the bottom of Jack’s shirt and jerk him back.

On the other side of the car, Dean was out, standing on the pavement, making sure to keep most of his body shielded by the door.

“We’re just looking around,” he called out, listening as Castiel tried to get Jack back into the car. “We don’t want any trouble.”

The men recovered quickly, the first man raising his arm in a wave, and smiles reappearing on their faces.

“Hi there!” the first man said, taking a few steps away from his companions. He was tall, skinny, and seemingly not a threat, but the bullet wound in Dean’s leg throbbed constantly, reminding him that everyone was capable of bad things under the right circumstances.

“That’s close enough,” Castiel called out, his voice deep and threatening. The man stopped abruptly, his waving aborted as he held both hands up in surrender. “We’re armed and though we don’t want trouble, we will protect ourselves.”

“Woah, I think you have the wrong idea!” the man called back, shaking his head though his smile was now back. “We’re just happy to see other survivors! We’re not a threat to you, we promise.”

“We have a camp,” one of the other men added, holding up his hands in the same fashion and joining his friend. “We have collected many survivors over the last few weeks. We have food, water, shelter. You’re welcome to join us, friends.”

“Chuck watches over us all,” the last man added, joining the other two though he kept his hands busy with a large duffel bag. The smile on his face matched the others and was completely genuine, however, it creeped Dean the fuck out.

Jack had no qualms about struggling out of Castiel’s hold and standing in plain view beside the car. “We were just talking about looking for a place to stay for the night!”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean swore, meeting Castiel’s concerned gaze over the top of the car. They were definitely going to need a ‘family meeting’ after this. “Jack, stop talking.”

Jack turned his head, the look on his face showing his hurt, and if Dean hadn’t been so worried that they were going to get shot and looted, he would’ve felt bad. Castiel however kept his eyes trained on the visitors before them.

“I’m Garth,” the first man broke the silence between them, taking a few steps forward. “You’re welcome to come and see our camp for yourselves, and you’re welcome to join us for just the night or however long you’re needing shelter for.”

“I’m Kevin!” the second man said as he relaxed his arms. “My mom and I were worried, too. But we took a chance and Chuck has seriously been a lifesaver. He takes care of all of us.”

“This is some Charles Manson shit.”

“Dean,” Castiel hissed a warning, glancing at Dean before turning back to Garth, Kevin, and the third man.

“What? It’s the truth,” Dean muttered but refrained from adding any additional commentary. If this _did_ end up being a creepy cult, offending them was probably not in their best interests. “So where is this camp of yours?” Dean called out instead.

“Follow us!” Garth gave out the invitation freely, turning with a wave over his shoulder as he turned his back on them, Kevin following suit.

“You can drive the car, if you want,” the third man added and then followed after his friends.

“Are we going?” Jack asked, turning to look between Dean and Castiel. “They seem really friendly and I really have to pee.”

Castiel sighed, reaching up to rub his temples. “Dean?”

“Why is this _my_ choice?” Dean asked, then shut the car door, walking around the front to join Castiel. They didn’t need to be overheard by the retreating group. “It's… weird how trusting they are. Tell me you don’t think that this is weird! Hell, I could get into the freaking car and plow them down, you know?”

“Not every person in the world is going to be bad,” Castiel said slowly, glancing over at Jack. “Kelly didn’t have to take us in. Jack didn’t have to come for us or help me get you there. And maybe… maybe it's not too good to be true?”

“I want to go see,” Jack declared, heading over to the car and opening the trunk, pulling his backpack out and slipping his arms through. “You said we can’t find the boat tonight. It’s _one_ night. We can take turns keeping watch and keep our weapons on us. If they’re as creepy as Dean thinks they are, we’ll just leave.”

“If they let us.” Dean stared at Jack for a moment, seeing the hope in the younger man’s eyes. “And listen, kid… we make choices as a group, okay? So we’ll go check this out, but if _one_ of us feels like it's a trap? We’re out of there.”

Jack nodded his head quickly, trying to hide his smile.

Castiel moved around Jack to get his and Dean’s bags while Dean shut the doors and locked the car. It was a risk leaving the extra food, water, gas, and blankets in the back, but driving the car over to the camp didn’t sit right with him.

“And Jack?” Dean added as they started walking after the three men. “You could’ve put us all at risk by jumping out of the car like that. You need to be more careful, for yourself and for us. We talk about things, first.”

Jack looked contrite. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t think-”

“No, you _didn’t_ think, and that’s the problem,” Dean cut him off and immediately felt guilty. Beside him, Cas gave a gentle sigh.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad,” Jack whispered, looking down and toeing the ground.

“Jack,” Castiel said, reaching over and squeezing his shoulder, “Dean isn’t mad. He is worried. I am too. We are taking a huge leap of faith right now. And to be fair, most of the leaps we’ve made have worked out for the best. But right now everything is a risk. Me taking in Dean back in August was a risk. Us helping Jody Mills in Sioux Falls. Us trusting you and your mom. Hell, even _you_ trusting me!”

“You didn’t look that scary,” Jack said with a shrug. “You just looked like you were going to throw up.”

Castiel gave a small snort and shook his head. “Do you think if you had put Dean in further danger then I wouldn’t have eliminated you?”

Jack nearly tripped, jerking his head in surprise to look at Castiel and then at Dean. Something flickered over his expression and Castiel added quietly, “Do you think if someone was going to put you in danger right now that I wouldn’t do the same?”

Jack was quiet for a moment, the three of them falling in line as they walked to the end of the parking lot. The group they were following were ahead of them, paused at a split in the road. Garth smiled wide when he saw they were following and they turned to the left, walking down the street Dean had originally driven down.

“I promise that from now on, I’ll wait,” Jack said softly. “That we work together as a team. I don’t… I don’t want anything to happen to either one of you and I don’t want you to be worried about me.”

Dean gave him a smile and nodded, turning his attention to the building ahead of them. On the right side of the road loomed a large concrete building set back from the street and surrounded by an impressive lawn. The front was full of doors and windows reflecting the sunlight in a way that made it impossible to see inside from out on the street. It reminded him of the court house back home, and he wondered if it was a government building. It wouldn’t be comfortable inside, but it would be safe from the Lifeless. He raised a brow as he looked over at Castiel.

“Welcome to our camp!” Garth said happily as they joined them, his hand held out to shake. “Like I said, I’m Garth, this is Kevin, and this is Jesse!”

Dean glanced at Garth’s hand and took a step forward, shaking it quickly. “Dean, Cas, and Jack,” he replied, just barely catching Jesse’s suspicious look. “We’re wary of strangers.”

“No one is a stranger here, Dean!” Garth beamed at him. “We’re all friends here! Come on, Chuck will want to meet you!”

Dean waited for Garth, Kevin, and Jesse to turn again, and then looked around the building. There were no guards posted and the men before them didn’t appear to be carrying any weapons, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any danger behind the darkened windows. On the top of the building MUNICIPAL AUDITORIUM AND ARMORY was carved into the stone. Dean reached back to make sure his holster was unclipped before following after them.

“So I think Chuck’s girlfriend used to work here, and that’s how we were able to set up camp,” Garth was saying as they reached the main doors. “He slowly started reaching out to people in the community, helping them where they needed it. The auditorium is really the perfect place. He was so smart to think of it.”

“It’s true,” Kevin added as he pushed open the doors, stepping inside and holding them open for the group. Dean held his breath as they stepped through, turning to watch if Kevin was going to lock the door behind them. He didn’t, however, and simply walked forward, continuing to talk. “The city had a bunch of these cots and stuff here, just in case there was a natural disaster or something. It was set up with a bunch of food and supply reserves in the basement, too, and Chuck organizes teams to go out into the city for supplies.”

“We set up a marina watch for a while,” Garth continued, leading them through the front of the building. It was clean and quiet, though there were various knives and crossbows laying out on the welcome counter. Canteens were lined up next to the weapons, and oddly enough, a line of plastic school lunch boxes were up there as well. “We found many people who were trying to survive out on the water and took them in. People always come for a day or two, Chuck promises to help get them back on their feet and set them up with supplies for success, but… I don’t think anyone has ever left.”

Castiel cleared his throat, his eyes trailing over the weapons and waiting for Kevin to turn around. “How many people do you have in your camp?”

“I think this morning Chuck told us we were at fifty-six?” Kevin replied, looking at Jesse for confirmation. “He updates us every morning on what he’s heard of the outside world, our supplies and munitions, and how our camp is doing overall.”

“Wait, how the world is doing?” Dean asked. “How does he know?”

“Chuck knows everything,” Jesse replied with an eye roll, giving a friendly smile. “I believe he has different radios set up in his quarters, but I’ve never asked. He tells us what we need to know.”

“Woo, woo, woo… Helter Skelter, take seventeen,” Dean sang softly, earning himself an elbow to his side from Castiel. Garth, however, turned around quickly, making Dean jump back.

“Oh my God, I knew we would be friends!” Garth exclaimed, stepping forward and hugging Dean tightly. “I _love_ the Beatles! Not my favorite song, I’m more of a Help-era fan, but oh! Bess’ll be so happy to meet you!”

Dean twisted back, forcing himself not to shove Garth away. “I don’t do hugs,” he said simply, reaching back to make sure his weapons were still in place before straightening out his jacket.

“Oops! Sorry,” Garth said and punched his arm instead. “Bess always tells me not to be so overly friendly! I just forget myself sometimes.”

“Right.” Dean nodded and any discomfort he was displaying went straight over Garth’s head. The man simply laughed and continued forward, leading them down a main hallway to wide double doors.

“Alright, friends! Here we are! This place might as well be called Heaven, cause you’re gonna be set for life!”

The comment made Dean’s stomach twist but before he could react, Garth and Jesse were shoving the doors open and revealing a large gymnasium. The bleachers were pushed back, except for on the far wall where one was kept as a walkway to the balcony seating. There were rows of cots set up to the right, a kaleidoscope of colorful blankets and bags of various sizes on each neatly made cot.

To the right, tables were set up in rows with plates, glasses, and silverware set up for the next meal. More lunch boxes were on a table at the end, although these were opened and stacked inside of one another. It was empty of all people.

The doors swung shut behind them, making Dean start, and Garth chuckled.

“Oh boy, you are a jumpy one!” Garth laughed, his sneakers squeaking as he walked across the floor. Jesse and Kevin broke off then, heading over to the sleeping area. “Come on then!”

“What the fuck is going on here?” Dean whispered as Jack and Castiel stepped in closer.

“I have no idea,” Castiel answered honestly, Jack giving a shrug in response. “They haven’t asked for our weapons. Or for us to put down our things…”

Dean nodded and looked up as Garth stopped at the bottom of the steps. “Come on guys, Chuck is waiting! We should get you introductions before the gang comes back!”

“Still good?” Dean asked, and Castiel and Jack nodded. Together, they followed after Garth up the steps.

Most of the balcony was closed off but as they walked further there was a door leading to one of the boxes. ‘Chuck’ was written across the door in fancy gold letters, and Dean bit his tongue to keep from snarking out a comment. Garth knocked three times then pushed the door open.

“Heya, Chuck! Found these three out by the marina!”

In the room, a man with curly brown hair that was just starting to grey was sitting over an old typewriter. He wore jeans and a shirt, but had a worn-looking blue and white striped bathrobe on over his clothes. He looked up, slipping his thick black glasses off before folding them and placing them on the desk.

“Hello boys!” Chuck greeted them, standing up from the computer chair and coming around the desk. He wore honest-to-God bunny slippers and Dean had to wonder if he was losing his goddamn mind. “Welcome to The End.”

Dean blinked, waiting, watching as the smile continued to spread over Chuck’s face. “Get it? The End. There’s no doubt endings are hard, but then again… nothing really ever ends, does it? That’s why we're all still here, _surviving._ ”

“I suppose it is poetic,” Castiel conceded, the words slow and calculated. Dean resisted the urge to hightail it right back out the room. Garth had moved to the other side of Chuck’s… office space? Living quarters? It seemed to serve both functions, if the desk he’d been typing on, piles of books, and oversized bed in the far corner were anything to go by. Garth poured four glasses of amber liquid from a decanter, carrying them over on a freaking silver platter.

Dean had to be dreaming. There was no way this was actually happening. He accepted the glass and then looked over at Chuck, unable to keep himself from asking, “You realize we’re living in a freaking apocalypse, right?”

Chuck gave a small laugh, accepting his own glass from Garth with a simple ‘thank you’. “Well, if you’re worried about the alcohol content, Garth didn’t pour any of us enough to be off our game. But I promise you, this building is very safe. We are safeguarded against any attack from the new-level beings that walk among us.”

“New-level beings?” Dean chewed out the words, swirling the drink in his hands letting the scent of whiskey hitting him. “Uh, you mean the Lifeless that would like nothing more than to tear us apart and suck on our entrails?”

“All of God’s creatures must feed,” Chuck answered with a shrug, lifting the glass to his lips. He sipped with the most obnoxious sound and Dean wasn’t sure if he wanted to down his own shot or throw the tumbler at Chuck’s head. “All we can do is trust He has a plan for us, that He will lead us to safety, and that through our numbers we will persevere.”

“One of the gentlemen that brought us in,” Castiel started, leaning forward to place his still full glass on the edge of Chuck’s desk. The other man seemed completely unoffended, reaching over to take it for himself. He sipped it as he looked at Castiel to continue. “Jesse, I believe, said that you were able to update your camp with what is happening? Is that through… scouting?”

“No, but I have been able to receive a few radio transmissions. Updates from cities close to us. And He tells me everything I need to know.” Chuck leaned back on the desk, finishing off Castiel’s glass and setting it beside his empty one. “I unfortunately lost my love when all of this began, and like most of us, I was terrified and lost over the state of our new world. What was going to happen now? How was I going to survive? What about my friends, family, community? And I knew that I had to help.

“I was able to secure supplies to create a community, helping people, saving them. I knew that our power would be in numbers, and that if it was meant to be, we would be safe. I’ve watched the signs. When we feared we would go hungry? A farmer stumbled upon our group, sharing with us his knowledge, and building us a greenhouse. Our groups would stumble upon buildings where they were able to forage for non-perishable food sources. When we feared we would go thirsty? We found an engineer, who knew how to safely set up a filtration system for us to collect and purify the rain. When we were sick? We found doctors and nurses. Lonely and depressed? We found families with children, filling this hall with laughter.

“He’s given us everything we’ve needed, so it was always a waste of time and energy to give in to panic and despair.” Chuck smiled then, opening his arms wide. “The signs have always been there, and I have learned to look. We are happy, healthy, and flourishing here. And The End welcomes you.”

\--

Dean sat stiffly on the cot he had been assigned. Castiel’s was beside him and Jack’s above him. They were almost dead center in the sea of beds, and he would be lying if he said it didn’t make him nervous. Sensing it, Castiel moved around the area, pretending to be counting their supplies, but Dean knew he was really listening to every little conversation about them, his ears ready to pick up on any sign of danger. He did, however, touch Dean every couple of minutes - a squeeze to his shoulder, a brush of his leg. It did what it was meant to, and the small amount of reassurance made Dean try to relax.

As soon as Garth had shown them to their assigned cots, he handed them each ‘name tags’ which were folded triangles of posterboard. He quickly explained how they were used; each member of the camp had their own and would place them at the tables to claim their meal spots, in the showers when they were collecting their things to bathe, or their work stations throughout the building. They were supposed to take them everywhere and remove them when they were finished with the spot. Garth proclaimed happily that it left no room for argument which made everything move smoother.

Dean hated the way the D was written on his. It was swirly and slanted away from the rest of his name in a weird angle. When he said it aloud, Jack even rolled his eyes and told him to ‘grow up’. Dean didn’t point out that Jack’s name was missing the ‘c’.

If they decided to stay another night, they would be given a job at the camp. Chuck would conduct an interview to find out what their strengths were and place them in one of the groups. Food gathering and hunting, food preparation, cleaning, maintenance, security, and childcare. They also had a few medical personnel that could be called out of their normal jobs if they were needed.

When groups of people started coming in from their ‘jobs’, despite knowing how Garth, Kevin, and Jesse acted, he was surprised to see them all smiling. The area came alive with the sounds of laughter and conversation, people greeting their friends and family members, whether new or old, as they dropped off their belongings on their cots. Dean, Castiel, and Jack were all given curious, but friendly, looks. A few people even waved hello, but otherwise, they were left to themselves..

A hush came over the area suddenly, making Dean look up in alarm, Castiel standing straight at attention with Jack sliding over to stand with him. They looked around, everyone in the arena looking up at the bleacher seats, waiting.

Chuck appeared at the top of the stairs, his arms out wide as he began to descent. “Welcome home, my family!” he said loudly, his voice strong and deep as it carried over the room.

“Thank you, Chuck!” the encampment called back, their voices loud enough to echo and send a chill down Dean’s spine.

“I am glad to see each and every one of you have returned safely.” He beamed out at them, then turned his attention to the three newcomers. “As you may have noticed, we have new faces in our midst.”

Every head turned towards them and Dean felt himself flinch. Castiel’s arm was warm where it pressed against his, but the slight comfort didn’t stop Dean from reaching back and laying his hand over his gun.

“Welcome Dean, Castiel, and Jack!”

The group parroted the response and Dean watched as Castiel awkwardly lifted a hand to give the room a small wave. A moment passed and the group as a whole turned back to Chuck. Dean raised a brow and glanced at Castiel to see he had the same look of discomfort on his face.

“Now, Billie, Tessa, and AJ have been preparing an excellent meal for us all. Now that we’re all here, let’s tuck in!”

Chuck moved down the rest of the bleachers, the rest of the group falling in line after him towards the tables. A set of double doors at the end of the arena opened, a dark skinned woman pushing a large cart piled high with stock pots and dishes covered in foil. Behind her, a woman and man followed carrying pitchers of amber colored liquid.

Dean glanced at his partners and whispered, “He’s still wearing the damn bunny slippers.”

Castiel snorted softly, shaking his head. “At least he took off the bathrobe.”

“I think he looks comfy,” Jack chimed in, giving a shrug. “It's like a pajama party!”

Dean blinked slowly and shook his head. “Kid, you really needed to get out more.”

“Come on,” Castiel said softly before Jack could retort, and pushed both of them forward. “Try to blend in.”

With their name markers in hand, they followed the crowd of people as they moved around the tables, placing their names down and taking their seats. Dean hovered awkwardly behind Castiel with Jack peering over Castiel’s shoulder; everyone appeared to have their designated spots already.

Dean spotted Kevin, holding out a chair for an older oriental woman who smiled at him, reaching up to pat his cheek fondly. Mother, Dean guessed, and quickly smiled as Kevin looked up and caught him staring.

“You guys can sit with us!” Kevin called, pulling out the chair on the opposite side of him.

Dean nodded and followed after Castiel. Jack placed his name card next to Kevin, and Castiel sat down next to him with Dean taking the third spot at the corner of the table. At the head of the table, a thick, handsome man was sitting, though his attention wasn’t anywhere near the newcomers. Dean followed his gaze and saw a pretty red-head helping a heavily pregnant woman over to the table, talking quietly to her.

“Gilda,” the man beside Dean greeted, moving around to pull out the chair beside him.

Gilda smiled at him and replied, “Thanks, Benny. My feet are freaking killing me…”

The red-headed woman rubbed a hand between her shoulder blades, reaching forward to drop down their name tags. Hers fell over and Dean saw ‘Charlie’ printed in neat, block letters. As soon as everyone was seated, Charlie greeted them by raising her hand and giving the Vulcan Salute with a cheery, “Hey, bitches!”

Dean was taken aback for a second, then found himself smiling. _Thank God, there’s someone normal here._ He saluted back and opened his mouth to introduce himself and his companions but a loud bell sounded, making him snap his mouth shut.

“Table one!” Chuck raised his voice, hitting the bell again. The first table all stood, leaving their names in place but taking their plates, heading to the carts of food. The second table was called up with another ring of the bell, then the third which Dean, Castiel, and Jack were sitting at. As they approached the food line, Dean was surprised to see how fucking delicious everything looked. His stomach growled, making Castiel’s shoulders shake with laughter in front of him.

There were roasted vegetables, fresh as far as Dean could tell, beside a pot of roasted potatoes. Dean gasped when he saw beef, _real_ beef, and took a large share of steak tips that took up half of his plate. There was gravy and cream sauce, a pasta dish with olives and something that looked like mozzarella cheese. The pitchers turned out to be iced tea, and Dean accepted a full glass before returning to his seat.

Charlie was already there, having filled a plate for herself and Gilda, and her eyes widened as she looked at Dean’s plate.

“Holy moly, Batman,” she laughed as she glanced up. “Haven’t eaten in about a year, huh?”

“Nothing like this in a while,” Dean answered, stabbing a steak tip and tearing it off with his teeth.

Beside him, Castiel snorted and picked up a knife, handing it to Dean. Dean met his eyes and gave a small shrug, bumping into his shoulder before dropping his fork back down and cutting into the meat. “He finds me charming,” Dean mumbled around his mouthful, grinning wide at Charlie. Beside her, Gilda made a face, but Charlie laughed before looking down at her plate, still smirking.

“My mom says talking with your mouth open is disgusting,” Kevin chimed in from the opposite side of Jack, earning himself a hard nod from the woman beside him, presumably the mother in question.

“Brother,” Benny said, drawing the attention back to his end of the table, “with the hard times we’re in now, table manners are the least of our problems.”

Kevin muttered something about how “Chuck would be disappointed” but Dean ignored him, shifting in his chair to face Benny who was busy stabbing an oversized piece of steak and chewing it obscenely for effect.

Dean chuckled and asked, “How’d you get up here in Wisconsin? You sound like you’re from the South.”

“Louisiana,” Benny confirmed with a nod, taking a moment to swallow before winking as Kevin turned his head in disgust. “But I moved up here, oh, I don’t know… Going on six years now? I am - was a Recruit Division Commander out of the Naval Station in Chicago. We tried to hold the city for a while,” Benny shrugged, looking down at his plate as he cleared his throat, “but you’ve seen it out there, brother.”

Dean nodded and pushed the potatoes around on his plate. He briefly wondered if Benny had ever met Castiel’s boyfriend, Inias, but shook the thought away. It wasn’t like it mattered.

“I was heading towards Canada figuring it might be better up North. Then I stumbled across this lot here and just… stayed.”

Dean glanced around at the three tables, all full of people with only a few empty chairs dotted around. Everyone was laughing and talking. The aroma of good food was overwhelming. He felt slightly guilty about the first impression he’d made with Garth, Jesse, and Kevin. Then his eyes landed on Chuck at the farthest table.

The man was sipping from a wine glass, his eyes narrowed and a small smirk on his lips as he looked around the room slowly. There were people beside him, but no one was talking to him, although Dean watched as each person at his table continued to throw him glances and honest-to-God bows - as much as their position would allow.

Dean narrowed his eyes and turned back, seeing both Benny and Charlie were looking at him suspiciously. He cleared his throat and looked back down at his plate, finishing his meal in silence.

Castiel seemed to have the same idea as Dean, and throughout the rest of the meal they both sat silently listening to the bits and pieces of conversions around them. Jack was busy asking questions, and it gave them useful information as Kevin seemed to be an open book. They learned about the work schedules, meal rotations, and security for the building. Kevin told Jack how they had converted the school down the road into a farm with cattle, chickens, and pigs to feed their community. Most were not ready to be slaughtered or bred, but they had been rounded up and stabled together for both convenience and protection.

Dean kept glancing up, meeting Charlie’s gaze, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. She didn’t say anything, but Dean just _knew_ , could feel, that she was not as welcoming and easygoing of the newcomers as the rest of their camp. Dinner couldn’t be over soon enough.

As the meal began to wind down, a handful of people stood up and began clearing the table and the three chefs stood up to take away the carts of food. Jack moved to help, but Kevin stopped him with a hand to his arm and a shake of his head.

“Everyone has their role, Jack. Wait until Chuck assigns you yours. That’s the way we keep our peace.”

Jack looked uncomfortable as a girl younger than him came from behind to pick up their plates and glasses, and Dean wanted to laugh at how for the first time since they’d arrived here, he was on board with Jack’s line of thinking. When the table was cleared, a hush fell over the room and Chuck stood, his arms out wide once more.

“What a wonderful meal! We should all be thankful and grateful for what we have, for our neighbors both new and old. Sleep well, my family.”

“Thank you, Chuck!” the room echoed back, and despite expecting it, it still made something in Dean’s stomach turn.

Chuck stepped around the table and turned, walking back up the steps to his quarters. Then the room erupted into sound. The group moved as a single unit, stacking the chairs, folding the tables, and clearing the space. Dean, Castiel, and Jack followed the group to stack their own chairs, then stood, waiting to see what would happen next.

The group dispersed, mothers taking their children’s hands and leading them over to the cots. A few people went to the doors to head back outside, and the cooks came back out with hot plates of food. Dean watched them for a moment and saw three newcomers come in.

“They had dinner patrol,” Benny said from behind him, making him jump. “Sorry, brother, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re good,” Dean replied with a small smile, nodding his head. “Uh, so, what happens now?”

“People relax. Lights out at nine, so most of us shower, read, get the kids ready for bed… just down time.” Benny cocked his head to the side, looking over them before he smiled. “You guys want to know where the showers are?”

“That would be good,” Dean agreed, glancing over his shoulder to meet Castiel’s eyes, then Jack’s.

“I usually let the ladies go first,” Benny said as he walked around them, heading towards the row of cots. “Get your stuff together and I’ll find you all some clean shower supplies.”

Benny split from them at their section of cots, giving them time to pull out clean clothes and toiletries from their bags. Though the rest of the group seemed content to leave their things just sitting on the end of their beds, Dean hesitated when Benny came back. They had yet to leave this room without their bags.

“Why don’t you take Jack first?” Dean suggested, sitting down on his designated cot. “I want to go through some of our belongings. Cas you can-”

“I’ll wait with you,” Castiel interrupted, giving Dean a small smile. “As long as you’re comfortable, Jack? I can go with you if you don’t want to be alone.”

“I’m good!” Jack replied, accepting the towel from Benny and bundling it in his arms with his new clothes.

“Alright, cher,” Benny laughed, shaking his head as Jack nearly bounced up to his side. “Showers are straight out those doors,” Benny pointed, his eyes locking with Dean’s, “and the first door to the left. He’ll be okay in there. I’ll stay with him.”

Dean nodded once, then watched as they walked off. “Not sure why, but I trust him,” Dean muttered as the cot dipped, Castiel sitting beside him. The other man’s presence did wonders to calm his nerves, and Dean felt himself leaning into Cas’ side.

“Your gut instinct has yet to be wrong,” Castiel replied, letting out a deep sigh as he relaxed into Dean. “I’m thinking that we should stay a day or two, though.”

“Why?” Dean asked, eyes darting around them to the residents of the camp. No one was paying them any attention at all, everyone just focused on their own tasks or companions.

“I fear that Chuck has… control of this marina. I heard a few bits of the conversation at the next table, and it appears they have a few ships. They do fishing, patrols on the water, and I want to make sure that if we take a boat from here, we won’t be…” Castiel trailed off as someone walked by them, nodding hello before they twisted down a next aisle of cots.

“Yeah, okay.” Dean sighed, fingers clenching in the clothes on his lap. “This Chuck dude, there’s something about him, Cas. I don’t trust him, and I don’t trust this whole ‘family’ bullshit. I am going to sleep with one freaking eye open already.”

“We’ll take turns,” Cas soothed, tapping his foot against Dean’s. “Split the night into two shifts like we always do.”

“Alright,” Dean agreed, looking up as Jack came bouncing back over to them, his hair still damp and flinging droplets of water.

“Guys, the water pressure is _awesome_.”

Dean chuckled at Jack’s innocence and pushed up off the cot. “Alright, kid, you watch our stuff, okay?”

“Okay!” Jack said and plopped back on his cot, twisting down for his bag and pulling out a book, _Warm Bodies._

Dean raised a brow at that but Castiel shook his head, a small smile on his lips.

“You two are probably the last ones in there,” Benny said as he passed them, clapping Dean on the shoulder. “The light switch is by the door. Please make sure you turn it off when you leave. The night lights will come on automatically.”

“Thanks, Benny,” Castiel said in parting and together they weaved through the sea of cots and crossed the floor to the bathrooms.

The first part of the bathroom was a locker room with the doorway opening up to a square space lined with lockers. There were names written in white ink on them, and Dean couldn’t help himself. He pulled open Benny’s locker and saw the man kept his toiletries and towels in it.

The next room opened up to a row of toilets and a row of shower stalls, eight to be exact. A quick look showed that the showers were all unoccupied with the plastic curtains pulled back and leaving them open. There was only one other person in the bathroom, standing at the sink as they brushed their teeth. They raised a hand in greeting before returning to look at themselves in the mirror.

Castiel moved to dump his towels and clothes on a short, wooden bench just inside the shower curtain, kicking the plastic mat that was covering the shower floor.

Dean watched as the other man left the bathroom, effectively leaving them alone, just as Castiel said, “I wonder if we should be concerned about athlete’s foot. I was taught never to stand on the public show-”

Dean surged forward, sliding his hands over Castiel’s jaw to the back of his neck and pulling him in. He swallowed Castiel’s gasp of surprise, both of them falling back against the wall of the shower as Dean kissed him. Castiel’s hands came to Dean’s waist, pulling them flush, and Dean found himself smiling against Cas’ lips.

“I’ve wanted to do that all day,” he whispered, pressing their foreheads together.

Castiel replied by kissing him again. Castiel’s body was warm, igniting every inch of Dean’s body with heat even though they were barely touching. The rest of the camp melted away, and the only thing that mattered was Castiel’s body against his.

Then, Castiel reached for Dean’s shirt, pulling it free of his jeans.

Dean gasped as Castiel’s fingers trailed against his stomach, his touch making Dean shiver. Suddenly, all that mattered was getting each other out of their clothing. It was frenzied, neither one wanting to step away, though both desperately pulling at fabric. Castiel all but growled against Dean’s mouth as he fumbled with Dean’s belt, the cold shower stall a shock to his now bare skin as Castiel pushed him back against the wall.

Dean chuckled, slowly pushing his hands away to free himself of his own belt. As he slid it free, he raised his eyes to meet Castiel’s.

Something calmed between them then, and wordlessly Castiel stepped back to remove his boots, kicking them over near the bench. Dean followed suit, both of them watching the other remove the rest of their clothing. When the last of their clothes were thrown towards the bench, Dean turned and let his eyes roam over Castiel’s naked back as the other man reached to turn on the shower and adjust the water.

He swallowed hard as he watched the water start to roll down Castiel’s tanned, muscular shoulders. Castiel turned, cocking his head to the side to avoid the spray in his face. He rumbled in appreciation of the view before him.

“Shit,” Dean whispered, his stomach twisting in nervous anticipation, his fingers itching to touch. Castiel was tanned, and though he was on the leaner side due to their circumstances, he was well toned. A light dusting of hair started at his belly button, and Dean’s eyes followed it down with a hungry gaze.

“You just going to stand out there?” Castiel asked, his voice lower than usual and it made Dean’s breath hitch.

Slowly, Dean stepped forward, reaching for Castiel beneath the spray. His sides were warm, but the water was blessedly hot, making Castiel shiver from Dean’s cooler touch. Dean turned his head to the side to avoid the spray as Castiel’s hands came around his back, pulling their bodies flush together.

The water felt good pounding down on his shoulders, but it was nothing to the hard, hot lines of Castiel pressed against him. “Shit,” Dean whispered into the side of Castiel’s neck before letting his forehead drop to rest against Castiel’s shoulder. He gave a small laugh, his tongue darting out to lick the water from Castiel’s skin. “You feel so fucking good.”

Castiel didn’t answer with words. He lifted his hand, pressing his fingers beneath Dean’s chin and tipping his head up until he found his lips. Castiel kissed him deeply, his hands slipping over Dean’s hips and down over the swell of his ass. He gasped as Castiel’s hands tightened, grinding against him and holding Dean close.

Dean’s mouth fell open with a gasp and Castiel immediately took control, kissing him deeper. He groaned as Castiel’s tongue slid against his own, the heat surging through him. His cock throbbed between them and he ached for more. As if he was able to read his mind, Castiel reached between them, his fingers brushing over Dean’s length.

“Please,” Dean breathed out against Castiel’s lips, his following groan swallowed once more by Castiel’s mouth as his fingers wrapped around Dean’s cock. The drag of his palm was just on the good side of too rough, and it was perfect. It ignited a fire in Dean’s veins.

Dean let his hand trail down Castiel’s chest, reaching to wrap his fingers around Castiel’s cock. It was hot and heavy in his hand and he rolled his own hips forward into Castiel’s waiting fist as he matched the pace Castiel set.

Castiel’s breath came in short gasps, his teeth finding the side of Dean’s throat and making Dean groan out loud. Each short, perfect hiss of pleasure spilling from Castiel’s mouth against Dean’s skin made want more.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean whispered, shaking against Castiel’s body. Everything was overwhelming - the heat of the water, the pressure of Castiel’s touch, the feelings of _finally_ , and _perfect_ , and _home._ Castiel’s free hand reached up, gripping Dean’s shoulder, holding on and Dean gasped out Castiel’s name as he spilled between them.

“Dean!” Castiel groaned his name, his fist tightening to the perfect pressure as he helped Dean ride out his orgasm. Dean’s thighs were shaking and he leaned further into Castiel’s body, nearly knocking them over. Castiel released Dean’s softening cock and reached for Dean’s hip, holding them both steady.

Dean twisted his fist over the head of Castiel’s cock and with a few more strokes, Castiel was shaking in his arms, spilling over his hand. They stayed standing close underneath the spray with Castiel’s head resting against Dean’s shoulder.

“Fuck,” Dean whispered, his breath coming in gasps, but he couldn’t bite back the smile on his lips. Dean felt Cas’ own smile against his throat, then the brush of his lips, before the other man pulled back slowly. Castiel brushed past Dean, reaching for the pile of their toiletries on the bench. Castiel came back with a washcloth and bar of soap, working a good lather up in the cloth before turning towards Dean.

Dean smiled shyly and tipped his head back, his eyes fluttering closed as Castiel began washing his throat and chest. Despite what they’d already accomplished in the shower, this was far more intimate. It made Dean’s throat tighten with emotion and he reached for Castiel’s wrist, stopping him for a moment.

Castiel glanced up, meeting Dean’s eyes questioningly. Dean swallowed hard and Castiel smiled, nodding his head in understanding. He leaned in, kissing Castiel softly. Castiel washed the rest of Dean’s body before handing over the washcloth for Dean to do the same for him.

The water was still hot as they rinsed off and Castiel chuckled as Dean said, “Despite the creepy atmosphere and the ‘almighty Chuck’, I wouldn’t mind living with this water heater.”

They dried off and, after Castiel took a quick look at Dean’s leg, dressed quickly, refolding their things and stopping at the sinks to brush their teeth. As they were leaving, Dean smiled and reached back, Castiel’s hand finding his own and twisting their fingers together. They paused at the door and Castiel reached up to turn off the lights before they left the bathroom.

The second they stepped into the small hallway leading back into the main room, they were met with a shock of red hair and a scowl to match.

“Finally!” Charlie hissed, letting her arms relax from their crossed position over her chest. “As happy as I am that my gaydar is working, you have reaffirmed my stance on penises are gross.”

Dean stared at her for a moment, but it was Castiel that broke the silence and started to laugh, his head thrown back and his entire body shaking with mirth. Charlie gave another half-hearted glare, then broke into a smile herself.

“Anyways, I…” She stopped, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth and crossing her arms over her chest again, this time hugging herself. Dean exchanged a worried glance with Castiel, then looked towards the gym.

“Is there somewhere else we can talk?” he asked, and Charlie’s face lit up with relief as she nodded quickly.

“Yes, follow me.” She turned and started in the opposite direction down the dark corridor, Dean and Castiel taking a few steps after her before she spun around again with a hand up to halt them. “When Frodo sent Sam away after Gollum convinced him that Sam was eating their supplies on the steps of Cirith Ungol, how did you feel?”

“Uh,” Castiel started, and Dean watched as he tried to place the scene in his mind. Dean squeezed his hand and took a step forward, Charlie leaning back from him in surprise.

“Frodo never sent Sam away, not in the books. In the film, it was purely for cinematic effect,” Dean replied, watching the small smile twitch at the corner of Charlie’s mouth. “In reality, Sam never would’ve left Frodo, because their friendship, their mission, meant everything to him. And despite Frodo’s trust in Smeagol? Sam didn’t trust Gollum.

“The film did for me what it was supposed to; I was angry that such a vile act from Gollumn could get between such a strong friendship, and I was happy when it was validated as Sam went back for Frodo after finding the Lembas. Sam could’ve left, he could’ve gone home and married Rosie… he was stronger then, he’d gone through shit that changed him. But he didn’t, because Frodo still needed him. And that meant everything to Sam. Did it mean he probably had to play nice with Gollumn? That he would have to bite his tongue and let his friend make a decision that potentially could harm him? Of course, but -”

“I knew I could trust you!” Charlie exclaimed, throwing her arms around Dean’s shoulders and nearly knocking him off his feet. Castiel’s hands were firm on his back, steading them.

“Why does everyone want to hug me?” Dean asked, looking at Castiel over Charlie’s shoulder. But he found himself hugging her back, all the same.

“Okay, come on… Patrol will be through here soon,” Charlie said as she released him, smoothing out her shirt and turning back to disappear into the darkness.


	7. Reborn by God

**Reborn by God**

_At his ascension,  
our Lord entered Heaven,  
and He keeps the door open,   
for humanity to enter.  
Oswald Chambers _

**Sheboygan, Wisconsin  
43.750167, -87.705389**

The back of the building was dark, each doorway making Dean’s heart seem to skip a beat. He wondered what each of them held, what they were being used for, but Charlie barely paused at each one to listen before she scurried past them. When they reached the back doors, a large EXIT sign was illuminated, casting an eerie red glow over all of them. 

“Generators,” Charlie said softly, glancing back. “Emergency outlets and exits are hardwired into it.”

“Is there an alarm?” Castiel asked, pointing to the ‘Caution: Alarm Will Sound’ decal on the push bar of the door. 

Charlie shook her head and pushed the door open while Dean drew in a sharp breath, expecting to hear a peal of an alarm sounding through the building. The night stayed silent, except for Charlie’s soft laugh, and then they followed her out into the dark. 

The moon was full and high, giving them enough light to see by as they followed her across the grounds. Dean looked behind them, knowing that if anyone were to look out a window, they would easily be spotted walking across the grass. Charlie seemed aware of that fact, for she continued to the street and darted across it, leaving Dean and Castiel running after her to catch up. 

They crouched down beside a small restaurant, just barely able to see the sign for The 4th Street Tap with its large Pabst beer advertisement. Charlie was running her hands along the side of the building when Dean suddenly noticed the mural. It was a well kept painting depicting an ocean scene, but what was on it… Dean stopped, cocking his head as he tried to put together what he was looking at. 

“Is that… a football team chasing Johnny Depp?” 

Charlie paused, her fingers pressed to the worn wood and looked back. “Uh, yes,” she answered simply before resuming her search. She let out a triumphant noise when she found what she was looking for and pried her fingers into the edge of a plank, pulling the wood away with a nasty creaking sound. Dean stepped up behind her, peering into the small hole she was shoving her hand into. It looked new, and Charlie brushing splinters of wood from her hand only further confirmed his assessment. 

“Benny knew the owner,” Charlie said as she straightened, shoving the wood back into place, the mural blending the loose board near perfectly. “The girl didn’t make it but…” Charlie shrugged and shook out the key ring she had in her hand, moving around to the front of the building with Dean and Castiel close behind. She unlocked the door, the aroma of old fry oil hitting Dean and making him ache for onion rings and a juicy bacon double. 

“I thought Benny was living in Chicago?” Castiel asked, shutting the door behind him and, with Charlie’s request, locking the door up. She moved around the counter, pushing the swinging door open and leading them through the kitchen to a back room. 

“People have family and people travel,” Charlie answered and waved them through the door to the office. The space was simple, containing a couch that had seen better days and a desk covered in files and loose papers. As soon as the door shut behind them, they were plunged into a darkness broken by the sounds of Charlie rustling around, swearing under her breath. 

The room was suddenly lit up, and Dean slapped his hands up to cover his eyes at the sudden bright white light. 

“Sorry!” Charlie said quickly and turned down the brightness of the lantern she held in her hands. She placed it on top of a stack of files before plopping down into the desk chair and kicking her feet up on the free corner of the desk. Dean glanced at Castiel and shrugged before taking a spot on the couch. 

“Do you think Jack is going to wonder where we went?” he asked suddenly as Castiel sat beside him. 

“Benny’s got him occupied,” Charlie answered with a shake of her head. “He knew I was going to try and talk to you two.” 

Dean narrowed his eyes and nodded slowly, examining Charlie’s face. Her posture was relaxed, her hands loose in her lap, but something told him she was coiled as tight as a spring. He pushed himself forward to the edge of the couch. 

“ _What_ is going on?” 

Charlie sighed and looked down in her lap, once again biting her bottom lip in her mouth. She pulled the skin taut and it made Dean lick his own lip in sympathy. 

“Gilda and I found Chuck almost three months ago,” Charlie started, wringing her fingers together and cracking her knuckles. “Gilda was just nearing her third trimester then, she’s around thirty-seven weeks now, and… we needed a place that was safe. We hadn’t come across any camps that were willing to take us in and Chuck’s group opened their arms to us.”

“They do seem very open to accepting people into the fold,” Castiel agreed and Charlie threw him a small smile. “It was a little… alarming, actually, how easily Garth, Kevin, and Jesse invited us to join the group.”

“You were vetted from the moment you came downtown,” Charlie said with a shrug. “Chuck has outposts on the river as well as the lake, safehouses along the way to both observe anyone entering the city and to take out any threats before they can get to us.” 

Dean clicked his tongue and shook his head. “So they, what? Watched us drive through the city and somehow determined we weren’t a threat?” 

“I wasn’t there, but I know that Garth, Kevin, and Jesse weren’t the only ones from the camp there with you. If you had tried something? You wouldn’t be here right now. As for letting you into the camp… once you’re here, what are you going to do?”

“We were alone with Chuck,” Dean argued. “Well, Chuck and Garth. And they hadn’t taken our weapons.”

“Chuck wears full body armor,” Charlie answered with a small laugh. “It’s why he wears the bathrobe, it hides the bulkiness.” 

Dean snorted and met Charlie’s eyes. “That’s what you’re going with?” he asked and Castiel elbowed his side. “No, really, the dude’s wearing a bathrobe because he’s…”

“Woodbury’s The Governor type of unhinged?” Charlie offered and Dean clapped his hands together in delight. 

“Yes! That!” Dean turned towards Castiel, giving him a look. “She would’ve understood my Terminus reference.” 

Castiel looked confused, shaking his head as he turned away from Dean back to Charlie. “I’m not sure if I can handle two of you,” he muttered and Charlie let out a sharp laugh, dropping her legs down to the floor to lean her arms on the desk instead. 

“God, it’s been too long since I’ve been able to laugh like this,” she said with a smile, looking between them. Dean let his hand slide over Castiel’s right thigh, and Castiel shifted back further on the couch to comfortably hold his hand. He gave a quick squeeze to Dean’s hand and Dean smiled, squeezing back. 

“Okay, okay, down to business.” Charlie flicked her hair over her shoulder, pinning them both with a serious look. “This whole place stinks of something bad. He’s hiding something… Like, sure, Chuck comes off as benevolent and charitable, but he’s a regular ol’ Harvey Dent!”

She sighed and rolled her eyes to the ceiling, shaking her head. “Benny feels it, too. The last couple of weeks we’ve been trying to find out why everything feels so off. But, I have to be careful.” She dropped her chin back down, looking between Castiel and Dean. “Gilda only has a few weeks left, if we’re lucky. I promised her I would find us somewhere safe for the baby. We can’t…” She trailed off, her throat clicking as she swallowed hard. 

“Hey,” Castiel said softly, giving Dean’s hand another squeeze before he stood and came around the desk. Charlie allowed him to spin the chair slightly, Castiel dropping to his knees in front of her and looking up. “We’re not going to let anything happen to you, Gilda, or the baby.”

“You guys don’t even know me,” Charlie whispered, her hair falling forward again and hiding her face from Dean’s view. 

“Yeah, well,” Dean said, waiting for Castiel to look over at him, “we have a tendency to pick up strays. And we need good people around us.” 

Castiel smiled at him and nodded, then looked back to Charlie. “We’ve felt that something was off from the moment we arrived, and if that something is going to put all of us in danger? We’ll help.”

Charlie let out a shaky breath and nodded, reaching forward to ruffle Castiel’s still damp hair. “Alright, well,” she shook herself and sat up straight, “tomorrow morning, Chuck is going to conduct an interview with you both and with Jack to find out where to place you. What did you guys do pre-end of the world?” 

“I’m a doctor,” Castiel answered and Charlie lit up, clapping her hands together. 

“Oh! Thank God. Gilda is a nurse and somehow, in this entire camp, she’s the only medical person here. She stays at the camp because she’s so pregnant and they set up a little office for her, but Chuck has her tasked with patching everyone up, checking them out if they think they’re sick, and it's just… stressful and overwhelming.” Charlie grinned at him and gave a small shrug. “Even if it's just temporary, it will be a lot less stressful for her knowing that she’s got some back up.”

“It will give us a good vantage point, too,” Castiel said thoughtfully, sitting back on his heels. “We’ll be able to talk to everyone, see what people know. I can even suggest full physicals on everyone for the benefit of the group if need be.” 

“Yes!” Charlie exclaimed. “What about you, Dean?” 

“I restored classic cars,” he answered. “Not sure if Chuck has any need for that?” 

“Oh yeah,” Charlie answered quickly, nodding her head. “We have a bunch of armored vehicles that Chuck’s collected and they’re all in desperate need of a tune up. There’s a few guys who worked at Jiffy Lube, but it is kind of over their heads.” 

“What did you do?” Castiel asked and Charlie looked back at him. 

“Pre-apocalypse, I was a programmer. Computers are kind of out right now, so Chuck has me teaching.” Charlie gave a sharp laugh at that. “I don’t mind. The kids are actually pretty great, but… talk about stressful.” 

“What about Benny?” 

“Benny has kind of a… mix of jobs,” Charlie answered with a shrug. “He trained Navy recruits, so Chuck has him train security for a week every month with Jesse, keeping them sharp and changing up the routines. The rest of the time, he takes groups out on the lake. They fish and search for supplies, map out what's on the water and if there’s any boats that have moved.” 

“Alright,” Castiel said and reached up for the desk, dragging himself back to his feet with a slight wince as his knees cracked. 

\--

The last week had been long, causing Dean to be antsy. 

Every night, they met up - Charlie and Dean, Gilda and Castiel, even Benny coming occasionally. They would switch the line up to throw off any suspicion, but as far as Dean could tell, everyone in the camp was unconcerned about the rest of the people as long as everyone did their jobs. 

Dean had been placed in mechanics, using what he knew to keep the giant generators running as well as the trucks they used to scout further out and carry back supplies. The armored trucks Charlie had believed Chuck to have were really oversized pickups with embellishments on the outside to ‘protect them’. Dean didn’t see how barbed wire threaded around a front bumper would be a better weapon than, say, the bumper itself with the weight of the vehicle behind it, but he supposed it didn’t really matter. 

And just like the guys had done back at Dean’s shop, these guys talked. Jesse was also a mechanic in the ‘Before’ and Dean counted himself lucky to get to work alongside the other man. He wasn’t Dean’s favorite member of the camp by far, but he was a member of Chuck’s inner circle, and that made Dean want to ‘get to know him’. Jesse kept Chuck up on a pedestal - they all did here - but he hadn’t been able to fully shake his narcissistic personality. The man had a hard on for power and it didn’t take much sweet talking to get Jesse to drop hints about Chuck’s past, his thoughts, or his plans. 

Something was coming, but not even Jesse knew what. 

Kevin was a talker too, spending most of his days with Charlie as her assistant teacher unless Chuck had him out on a mission. Garth would flit about all of the groups, keeping an eye on the comings and goings of the camp and making sure everything ran smoothly. Despite being the most overly friendly, Garth was impenetrable. He let nothing slip, and he changed the subject smoothly if anyone was crossing into forbidden territory, without even letting on he was doing it. 

Still, even with all of the bits and pieces they’d picked up, they weren’t all that close to figuring out what Chuck’s end game was. They were positive, however, that he had something big planned and they were coming up on its debut. 

The alarm pealed through the hall just as the sun came up, waking the entire camp. Dean groaned as the lights followed next, bright and fluorescent. He covered his eyes with his arm and gave himself a moment to pretend he hadn’t heard the alarm. 

It was short lived. 

Jack’s chipper, “Good morning!” made him lift his fingers in greeting and he heard Castiel’s deep, sleepy response. Dean laid there for another moment until an eerie calm came over the room, causing him to squint through the sudden brightness and turn to see what had everyone so silent. 

Chuck was walking towards the cots, his striped bathrobe fluttering behind him like a cape as he walked. Nothing about him looked comfortable, however. He was focused, and Garth and Jesse were flanking him with serious looks on their faces. 

Collectively, the camp held their breaths. 

“Good morning, my family,” Chuck said softly, though his voice carried and could be heard even to the far row of cots. Hell, Dean was sure they could all hear a pin drop in here. “We have been at our new life for quite some time now. We are heading into the fifth month of the ‘After’ and I must say… I never expected The End to be so near and dear to my heart.”

He smiled at them, earning murmurings of agreement from the crowd. Dean narrowed his eyes and tried to keep his body looking relaxed. 

“While sometimes it's hard to keep track, today is the first of October. The first day is always the most powerful, is it not? The most poetic. On the first, we can accomplish anything. A new slate, a new plan, a new start. I implore each and every one of you to continue working hard, loving me as I love you, and loving one another. We are, after all, family.”

“We love you, Chuck!” the group responded and despite having heard the mass of people call back various things to their ‘leader’, it still gave Dean a shiver. He heard a cot creaking behind him and could almost picture Castiel struggling to stay nonchalant. 

Chuck smiled and lifted his head, his voice dropping even lower. He whispered, “ _‘By his choice, he gave us birth by the word of truth so that we would be a kind of firstfruits of his creatures.’_ ” He dipped his head back and smiled at them, Dean still trying to puzzle together what the hell he meant. “Let us break our fast and get to today’s work.”

“Thank you, Chuck!” 

The moment over, everyone started to scramble around them once more to get ready for the day, and Dean turned on his cot to see Castiel’s expression. The man was thinking hard, his lips slightly parted as if he had a word on the tip of his tongue but it wouldn’t come out. 

“Cas?” 

Castiel jumped slightly, looking up to meet Dean’s gaze, and gave a small smile. “Sorry, I just… It sounded like he was quoting the Bible…” 

“That’s weird...” Dean drew it out, cocking his head. “Right? That’s weird.” 

“It’s definitely… a change from what we’ve seen.” Castiel fell silent again, chewing on his bottom lip as he leaned down to pull his bag free. He pulled out a new set of clothes and Dean quickly followed suit, waiting for Jack to get his before the three of them stood. 

“Garth said he was going to be down in the kitchens today,” Jack said softly, Dean and Castiel flanking him on either side as they moved towards the locker room. 

“To check in?” Dean asked, glancing at Jack and seeing the younger man shake his head. Jack hadn’t been able to do much recon at all, Chuck having placed him on kitchen duty. He helped prep and store food and wash dishes, and had been taken under Billie’s wing, with the woman teaching Jack to cook. 

“No, he said he had something important to do for Chuck,” Jack answered with a shrug. 

“Alright,” Dean nodded, meeting Cas’ eyes over the top of Jack’s head, “just keep your ears open and your eyes peeled.”

“Of course,” Jack replied with a smile. They fell silent as they joined the rest of the crowd that was heading towards the locker rooms. 

After they were dressed, they exchanged their dirty clothes for their name plaques and quickly made it through breakfast before heading off to their respective jobs. Dean joined up with Jesse and their small team to head outside. As they reached the doors, however, Jesse stopped them and said he had “other things to do today”, leaving them to cross the street to the grassy plot by the boardwalk where the camp’s vehicles were parked. 

There wasn’t much work for them to do; the monthly tune-ups had been completed and none of the generators needed to be repaired, so they all sat around waiting for something to be called in on the radio. 

When lunch rolled around, Dean had casually poked at everyone, seeing if they knew what Jesse was up to, and came up with nothing. Jack and Billie were making their way across the grass, each carrying an oversized basket to bring them their lunch. Dean smiled and waved a greeting. 

“Hey, Dean?” Jack asked as he handed off the basket. “I have to ask you something.”

“What’s up, buddy?” Dean stopped by the basket to grab himself a sandwich and a paper bag of potato chips. They were still warm and Dean followed after Jack towards the street and away from the group, shoving his hand in the bag to pop three whole chips in his mouth. 

Jack looked over Dean’s shoulder, then leaned in and whispered, “I know what Chuck is planning.”

Dean stopped mid-chew and raised a brow, meeting Jack’s eyes straight on. “What?” 

Jack nodded quickly, clasping his hands in front of him. “Billie and I were cutting up the potatoes for the chips… and I saw Jesse come into the kitchen with Garth. Sometimes Garth is there, but I have _never_ seen Jesse there. I saw them going back through the storage room and I told Billie I had to go to the bathroom so I could follow them.”

“Okay,” Dean said slowly with a nod. “What did they want in storage?” 

“So the storage room is pretty big, and it has a side room that’s always been locked. Billie said no one has ever found the key.” Jack shook his head quickly. “Garth had the key, Dean. I hid behind the rack of pans and I heard them talking about the ‘feast’. Chuck is calling it the ‘Feast of Grace’ and they’ve been saving up food or something. Dean…”

Jack’s eyes were wide and he looked scared. “Jack, what is it?” Dean asked, reaching forward to squeeze the younger man’s arm. “What happened?” 

“There’s an entire stack of Roman Water.”

“What?” Dean hissed and Jack only nodded in response. “Fuck… _fuck!_ What are -”

“It's for the Feast.” 

“When is this feast?” Dean asked. 

“Four days,” Jack replied. “Garth kept saying the ‘fifth’ day. Dean, what are we going to do?” 

Dean swallowed hard, shaking his head. “Tonight,” he cleared his throat, “we’ll have a meeting tonight.” 

\--

“The Father, The Son, The Holy Spirit… this is The Holy Trinity that we all know and hold dear. But does that change during ‘The End of All Things’? Or does it transcend into something even stronger?” Chuck stood at the bottom of the bleacher stairs, his smile wide and his head held high. 

It had been two days since they’d learned about the water and the ‘Feast’. Dean’s plan to confront Chuck and call him out was shot down and they were playing by Charlie’s rules. He looked across the table at Charlie and Gilda who were staring at Chuck with narrowed eyes. 

They had two more days. 

“His plan has always been almighty, and we have never been one to question it. We follow blindly, happily, into the unknown despite every obstacle that is thrown our way. Where has this led us, however? It’s led us into the trial and tribulations of his doing and the only place for us to go is up. Together, we will survive. We will overcome the new trinity and become a new end.” 

The rest of Chuck’s words, Dean ignored, instead closing his eyes and reaching beneath the table to squeeze Castiel’s leg. The sound of silverware clattering made Dean open his eyes and see the table was suddenly in a flurry, starting to eat. 

Dean glanced to the right and saw Mrs. Tran looking over her son’s head, studying them. So far, she was the only one that Charlie and Gilda had been able to convince and she was currently working on her son. How the girls had managed to calmly and rationally tell people that their lives were in danger, that Chuck was planning a massacre… Dean had no idea. 

As breakfast wrapped up, their small group hesitated at the table, watching the rest of the camp jump into action to clean up and get to their jobs. When they were as alone as they could be, Charlie leaned over the table and the rest of them leaned forward. 

“Mrs. Tran is still working on Kevin, and Ava believes us, too. But…” Charlie trailed off and glanced over at Gilda. “Guys… seven of us aren’t going to make much of a difference here. We can try to confront Chuck but… honestly, if his game plan is what we’re thinking it is, he’s going to stop us and he’s got the man power to do so.” 

Dean nodded and looked at Castiel who was staring down at his empty plate, deep in thought. 

Gilda suddenly cleared her throat, causing Dean to look across the table at her, but Gilda’s eyes were over his head. Dean stiffened and turned his head, meeting Garth’s smiling face with Jesse standing impassive behind him. 

“Dean?” Garth asked, cocking his head and his smile widening. “Can I borrow you for a moment?” 

Dean cleared his throat and nodded, pushing back from the table. 

“I’ll take care of your plate,” Castiel offered, giving Dean a look. Dean smiled in response and followed after Garth and Jesse. The rest of the group started to clean up the last of their breakfast dishes and Dean looked over his shoulder to see Castiel still watching him as they started up the steps to Chuck’s office. 

Though no one laid hands on him, Dean was tense and felt as if they were seconds away from grabbing him and slapping cuffs on him. They opened Chuck’s office and stepped in with him, the door shutting with a silent snap that reverberated through Dean’s bones. 

Behind his desk, Chuck pushed up from the chair and stood tall, his eyes narrowed slightly, but the rest of his posture relaxed. 

“Sit down, Dean,” he said calmly, nodding to an oversized chair. Dean looked around, noticing that there were no other seating options, and he made his way over to the chair to sit. Jesse moved with him, standing over the back of the chair and making a shiver go up Dean’s spine. 

He cleared his throat, keeping his gaze on Chuck who had returned to his own seat. “What can I do for you, Chuck?” he asked, licking his lips and hoping he looked calm and relaxed. “I have to get to wor-”

“No, Dean,” Chuck cut him off, shaking his head. “You don’t.” 

Dean swallowed and kept his gaze on the man before him. “Okay… was there something else you wanted me to do today?” 

Slowly, a smile spread over Chuck’s lips and it made Dean’s skin crawl. 

“I do, in fact, have a job for you.” Chuck nodded and Dean looked up to watch Garth slip out of the room, shutting the door again behind him. The room remained silent, Dean fighting between asking what the fuck was going on and acting like he didn’t care. 

Then Garth came back carrying a bottle of Roman’s Spring water. 

Dean felt his eyes widen, and knew that Chuck saw it. 

“Do you know what this is, Dean?” Chuck asked, accepting the bottle from Garth and placing it on the desk in front of him. His fingers trailed down the side of the plastic, but his eyes were trained on Dean’s face. 

“You mean, other than the obvious?” 

Chuck smiled at Dean’s snark and gave a small laugh, looking up at Jesse and Garth. “He’s such a character, isn’t he? Written in for comic relief.” When he turned his gaze back to Dean, Dean forced himself to hold his head up and maintain eye contact. 

“Since the first day you came to us, Dean, you haven’t trusted us. It seems to be… ingrained in you, really. A gut reaction, perhaps?” Chuck cocked his head but clearly didn’t expect a response, folding his arms over his chest as he continued, “You’ve been watching everyone around you, putting off your don’t-care attitude, all while manipulating what you could to gather information. Jesse told you what I asked him to, of course, but it was your boy, Jack, sneaking after them in my storeroom that truly tipped me off to your intentions.”

“My intentions?” Dean scoffed. “I hardly think that between the two of us, _I’m_ the one with-”

“A piss-poor attitude and lack of vision?” Chuck interrupted, giving a shrug. “You have been hell bent on one thing and one thing alone - taking apart the camp I have worked so hard to build. This is a new empire, Dean. A new world. The End is truly the beginning and we have the opportunity here to be reborn and live a new life.” 

“Right, so you plan on murdering everyone in the camp and somehow _I’m_ the bad guy?”

“Murder!” Chuck laughed and Jesse and Garth chuckled with him, sending a chill up Dean’s spine. “Everyone is here of their own free will, Dean. I haven’t forced anyone to do anything they don’t want to do, I haven’t lied or held anyone back from leaving, if that’s what they desire. I’ve created a new world, and I’ve invited you and your family to join ours.” Chuck shook his head. “You made the choice to sabotage us.” 

Dean gave a sharp laugh but suddenly Garth was in his face, pushing his shoulders into the chair and blocking his knees. 

“I had such high hopes, Dean,” Garth said with a sincere, sad smile. “I’m so sorry about this.”

Dean struggled against Garth’s hold, but the wiry dude was fucking strong, much stronger than Dean would’ve given him credit for. From behind, Jesse moved with a coil of rope, and in a last ditch effort, he slammed his head forward. Garth’s nose made a sickening crunch as the man fell back with a grunt. 

Jesse swore but Dean twisted and pushed up out of the chair only to be met with the barrel of his own gun. 

Chuck stood calmly, the same stupid smile on his face, his fingers steady as they gripped the pistol. “Sit,” he commanded, smiling wider at Dean’s hesitation. Chuck let him have it, let Dean weigh his options, watched the realization dawn that he wouldn’t get far at all without a bullet through his chest. 

Slowly, Dean sank into the chair, clenching his teeth as Jesse coiled the rope around his torso and legs, tightening it painfully. On the floor, Garth was sitting up, wiping the blood from his nose on his shirt and looking betrayed. Dean wanted to punch him in the nose again. 

Chuck looked up and nodded at Jesse and Garth, the two men grabbing hold of the base of the chair and lifting it, with Dean, and carrying it to the otherside of the room. Dean’s stomach flipped at the unsteady ride and he wondered if he screamed, who would hear him? Who would come to his rescue? 

Chuck leaned over Dean and removed a bible from the bookcase covering the wall behind them, letting the heavy book fall into Dean’s lap. Then he pulled a lever, the bookcase making a ‘popping’ sound before Garth grabbed the edge and pulled it forward. 

Dean craned his head to see a man-made hole in the wall, the drywall they’d gone through broken unevenly with jagged parts of the building’s frame sticking out. They picked the chair up again and it was soon answered why Chuck appeared to only have an office. 

The room was a mirror image to Chuck’s office in size, the window and door in the same place, but instead of a desk and bookshelves, it was a moderately decorated bedroom, with a queen sized bed, dresser, nightstand, and oversized, wooden armoire. Dean was plunked down in the middle of the floor and Chuck nodded again, the two other men making their leave and shutting the bookcase behind them. 

“You can scream, if you want,” Chuck offered, and Dean kept his mouth firmly shut, glaring at the other man. It only seemed to amuse him. 

“I never intended for my camp to become what it is,” Chuck sighed, moving around his bedroom and wandering over to a small table with a decanter of alcohol and glasses. He poured himself a glass and then raised it to Dean. “I suppose you wouldn’t trust anything I gave you to drink?” 

“I suppose if I asked you to go fuck yourself, that would be fruitless?” Dean fired back and Chuck laughed, taking a deep sip from the glass. 

Chuck clicked his tongue and sat down on the end of the bed, the mattress springs groaning out their protest. “Do you remember where you were when the world ended?” He blew out a slow breath, his eyes trailing away from Dean and looking to the side of the room where the armoire sat. “I was an author, before The End, and I was cooped up in my office, typing away, with the rest of the world going on around me and I never gave it a passing thought. Then my fiancé came home, her hair pulled out of her ponytail, crying and panicked…” Chuck laughed, lifting the glass to his lips again, but he didn’t drink it. 

“I didn’t believe her. I mean, she was basically explaining the concept to the latest zombie movie! Those were the things I wrote about and yet… I’ve never seen her so scared. It was Becky who worked here, managerial work, and she started collecting the original group. Coworkers and friends, families we passed as we ran through the city…”

“Spare me the fucking villian montage, Chuck. I don’t care what happened to you. We _all_ have similar stories, and yet you’re the only one who’s planning on… what? A mass suicide?” Dean spat at him and slowly, Chuck turned his head back and met Dean’s eyes. 

“You have no patience, do you?” Chuck’s voice was low, dripping with anger. “How did you get through high school, Dean? Sparknotes? Skipping to the end to read the last chapter? Where is your _vision_?” 

“The only thing I want in my vision is you on the floor, bloodied and beaten, after I kick your goddamn ass!” 

Chuck inhaled deeply, forcing himself back to calm and drained his drink, setting the glass down on the comforter beside him. 

“I’ll skip to the end, then.” He stood, the bed creaking once more, and walked across the room. Dean hated it, but his eyes tracked Chuck the entire way. “Becky had a vision. She wanted to start a new life, a new community. She believed that we could survive… but do you know what humans do, Dean? Humans lie. They lie, they cheat, they manipulate. They steal from one another and watch the people they once broke bread with suffer.

“ _He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not,_ ” Chuck whispered, his hands gliding down the wooden closet doors at the back of his room as if he were caressing a lover. “ _He came unto his own, and his own received him not. But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name._ ” Chuck grabbed the handles and Dean watched the man’s shoulders rise and fall as he took a deep breath. 

Dean held his own. 

“ _Which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God! And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth._ ”

Chuck flung the doors open and Dean jerked back so hard in the chair that it scooted across the carpet a few inches. Inside the closet, a Lifeless was suddenly aware the doors were open, her eyes blood red and her mouth open in a gurgling scream as she flailed against the chains that bound her. Her dress was blood stained, her hair once twisted at the base of her skull was now matted and stringy. Her skin was mottled shades of grey and green and black. 

Chuck reached forward, caressing the creature’s head, despite it snarling and twisting against the bindings, teeth snapping to get at his flesh. “ _This was he of whom I spake, He that cometh after me is preferred before me: for he was before me. And of his fullness have all we received, and grace for grace._ ” 

Chuck turned then, facing Dean once more, the Lifeless behind him still struggling to reach him. “Becky showed me the truth, Dean. She showed me what God wanted for us, what the new world order was to be. She is strong, she is resilient, she is worthy of his divinity. Don’t you see, Dean? This isn’t murder, this is rebirth!”

“You’re insane!” Dean’s voice broke and he wasn’t sure who he was more afraid of. Chuck only shook his head sadly. 

“Vision, Dean. You simply lack vision.” He turned back towards the Lifeless, to Becky, and reached for her hand. “Soon, Becky, we will be together again.” 

Chuck left the closet doors open and collected his glass, placing it back on the small table beside the decanter as if everything that was happening was normal. Dean watched him, wide-eyed, as he reached through the hole in the wall to pop the bookcase out. 

“My friends are going to look for me!” Dean yelled at him, swallowing hard as Chuck paused. “They’re going to stop you.”

Chuck ducked down slightly to meet Dean’s gaze beneath the top of the hole and smiled. “I’m sure Garth has already convinced your friends that you agreed to go out on a recon mission with Garth, after all…” He pointed and Dean hesitated before looking, his eyes finding Becky again and then-

“No,” he growled, looking away from his pack shoved at the bottom of the closet behind Becky’s feet. “They’re going to stop you!”

“How do you know I haven’t already done it?” Chuck asked, turning back around. “I hope you enjoyed breakfast, Dean.” 

Dean screamed in frustration, half hoping Chuck would come back just so he wasn’t alone, and half glad that he could have a moment to think… until the sound of the chains clanging as Becky fought to be free made him remember Chuck had left the doors open and Dean had a more imminent threat. 

Hours passed, with Dean fighting against the ropes binding him to the chair, bouncing and jerking as much as he could to get the chair further away from the closet. Hell, if Becky did manage to break free, there was shit-all Dean was going to be able to do about it, but being further away at least helped his anxiety over it. At least, that’s what he could tell himself. 

He forced himself to try and remain calm, watching the sliver of light he could see through the crack of the heavy curtains over the windows make its way across the carpet. Night would be falling soon… and it made him wonder if Charlie, Gilda, Benny, and Jack would believe he’d gone on a mission. It made him wonder if Cas believed it… 

Out of anyone, he was banking on Castiel knowing that Dean leaving without saying goodbye, and taking half of their supplies with him to boot, was complete bullshit. Their possessions were so intertwined, just because the bag rested beneath Dean’s bed, didn’t mean it was only Dean’s. But how would they even begin to find him? 

They had less than twenty-four hours to stop Chuck’s plan. And the bottom line was that they didn’t have time to save Dean. He either needed to save himself or… well. He glanced over at Becky again and then shut his eyes. 

Chuck didn’t return to the room that night, leaving Dean sitting in the chair. When the sunlight was gone, Becky was still and silent, unless Dean made a sound. Lifeless couldn’t see in the dark, or apparently smell, but they could obviously hear. 

His arms were numb to the point his fingers were complete ice, and he didn’t know where his legs were unless he looked down at them. There was no way for him to get out of the ropes, so he was left alone with his thoughts. 

He wondered if Sammy was safe. Sioux Falls felt like a lifetime ago, instead of just a few months. He never thought it would take that long to get to his brother. Sammy was smart, he was resourceful… but if Dean knew his little brother, and he sure as hell did - Sam had collected people from his dorm room, the college campus, and any goddamn spot along the way. People meant support and camaraderie. It also meant more mouths to feed and more danger of attracting attention either from the Lifeless or from other bands of survivors looking for supplies and not being picky about who they took them from. 

_What if Sam didn’t make it to New York, either? What if this entire journey, dragging Cas and Jack across the country, was all for nothing? What if Chuck’s plan succeeds and I sit here, starving to death tied to a chair, while Cas and my friends live forever in rot and decay a floor beneath me?_

Why did the thought of losing Castiel hurt him so much more than remembering the way he’d lost Lisa? 

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, gasping against the sudden burning in his eyes, and Becky roared to life with a deafening clank of chains. 

No, Castiel wouldn’t fall victim to Chuck’s plan, and he wouldn’t let anything happen to Jack, either. Charlie, Gilda, Benny, the baby… Castiel would get them all out of this alive. Dean smiled, letting himself imagine Castiel finding Sam, the two of them combining forces to create a compound that was everything Chuck’s _could_ have been - without the freaking, cult-like mentality. 

Sam and Castiel could do it, Dean would follow either one of them to the ends of the world, knowing they’d make it. 

Castiel could tell Sam about how hard they fought, they could share stories about Dean and Sam growing up, Castiel and Dean on the road… they would get along, Dean knew it in his very soul. And maybe Castiel would find someone in Sam’s camp, would get the chance to fall in love and… 

The sound of the bookcase popping open made Dean’s heart beat increase, and he stiffened, craning his head to the opening. He held his breath, trying to listen over the sounds of Becky, confused when Jesse was bodily shoved through the opening and pushed to the floor. 

There was fumbling against the wall until the room was suddenly flooded with light and Dean’s eyes widened to see Castiel and Benny looking around the space. 

“Dean!” Castiel breathed out a sigh of relief and dropped down to his knees behind the chair. The ropes around Dean pulled tighter before they were suddenly released. Dean felt himself slump forward and Castiel was immediately there, grabbing his arms and rubbing over them. Dean hissed out in pain at the sudden burning ripping through his limbs, but Castiel only apologized and continued. 

“Shit, brother,” Benny whispered and Dean looked up to see the Cajun looking at the Lifeless. Then Benny grunted as Jesse moved, slamming himself into Benny’s legs and taking them both down. 

“Benny!” Dean called out but Castiel shushed him, pulling the rest of the ropes free and rubbing his legs as he had his arms. 

“He’s got it,” Castiel reassured him, reaching for Dean’s arms again and pulling him up. Dean’s legs were like jelly and he was glad Castiel was there to hold him up. “We need to get out of here, now.” 

“How did you know where to find me?” Dean asked, allowing Castiel to half drag him towards the doorway while Benny grappled with Jesse, getting the upper hand and kicking him back. Jesse flew back against the dresser, and the Lifeless Becky managed to scrape the top of his head with her fingers. 

“You good?” Benny asked as he reached up with the back of his hand to wipe blood from the corner of his mouth. He reached down to grab Dean’s bag from Jesse’s side, then he led them out of the room, shoving the bookcase back into place while Castiel dumped Dean into Chuck’s desk chair. Then, Benny and Castiel shoved Chuck’s heavy desk across the floor to block the bookcase before they turned their attention back to Dean. 

“How?” Dean asked, looking between them.

“Benny has a good right hook,” Castiel answered at the same time Benny said, “Brother, I wouldn’t want to piss off your man.”

“Jesse was the easiest to break,” Castiel added, jerking his head towards Chuck’s bedroom. “Garth wouldn’t, not until we threatened Bess…”

“What?” Dean asked, alarmed, as they pulled him up to his feet. “What the hell happened?”

“We got desperate,” Castiel replied, his voice tense. “We knew you didn’t go anywhere willingly, and I was not leaving without you.”

“None of us were,” Benny added, clapping Dean’s shoulder before opening the door for them to Chuck’s office. Dean froze as he looked over the people milling about their cots, a few throwing them quizzical glances. “Act normal.”

Dean snorted at that. There was no way the three of them coming out of Chuck’s office with Castiel holding Dean up, was anywhere near normal. As they moved through the beds, Dean noticed that Charlie, Gilda, and Jack were missing, along with the rest of their belongings. As if he could sense Dean preparing to ask, Castiel slowly shook his head. Dean stayed silent until they crossed through the doors to the locker rooms, Castiel leading them to the following door on the left.

They paused and Benny looked behind them. “Go ahead,” he said with a nod when the coast was clear. Castiel pushed open the door to a dark storeroom, and they all took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the dim flashlight in the corner. 

Chuck was sitting on the floor, arms tied tightly with his own bathrobe belt and one of his stupid bunny slippers shoved into his mouth. Gilda was sitting on an upturned milk crate while Charlie and Jack stood on either side of Chuck, weapons in hand.

“Dean!” Charlie whispered with a smile. “I’m so glad you’re okay. You’re okay, right?”

“I’m good, Red,” Dean replied, earning himself another smile. “What about you all? Did you stop him?”

Charlie’s smile fell and Gilda answered instead. “No, he got the entire camp up for a ‘celebratory feast’ at midnight. Everyone ate and drank the toast… well, except us of course, and Mrs. Tran. But she said she won’t leave Kevin, even if that means…” Gilda shook her head and placed a hand over her swollen stomach. “They’re all gone, Dean.”

Even with the slipper, Dean watched as a smile spread across Chuck’s lips. He wanted to punch him. 

The room was silent and Dean wondered what time it was and how long they had before the others started to change. Then again, it didn’t really matter; there was nothing they could do to stop it. 

“So… what now?”

—-

The early morning air was cold, the breeze nearly biting at their skin as it whipped off the water. The last two hours had passed in the blink of an eye and part of Dean felt as if he were still tied to the chair in Chuck’s bedroom, having been eaten by Becky or fallen asleep. 

There was nothing they could do about the members of the camp; in a sense, Chuck got everything he wanted. He’d managed to blindly lead the entire group to suicide. Dean should’ve known the creepy little fucker wasn’t a Manson. He’d always been a Jim Jones. 

The gas they’d taken from the Klines’ house was somehow still untouched, sitting in the trunk waiting for them. They split up, Gilda and Jack riding with Benny in the van a few miles up the strip to where Benny had hidden a tugboat. 

A ‘YT-802’ to be exact. Though neither Dean or anyone else knew what the hell Benny was talking about, he assured them that it was not only big enough for all of them to fit comfortably in, but that it had plenty of diesel for them to get to where they were going. 

Charlie, Dean, and Castiel took the rest of the gasoline and waited until ‘lights out’ to move about the hallways, pouring out the gasoline. Dean tried to ignore the fact that these were people they’d spent the last week with, people he’d come to know, to enjoy. People he otherwise would have dared to call friends. 

They were already dead and they were doing what they could to ensure they weren’t going to kill anyone else. 

From the deck of the ship, Dean, Castiel, and Charlie looked out over the water at the thick, black smoke spiraling up into the air. They’d taken what supplies they could from the storage rooms and left Chuck tied up to face his demise. 

“What about the people on the perimeter?” Castiel asked softly as Benny started to pull further out into the lake, leaving the small dinghy they’d taken out to the boat behind . “Do you think Chuck sent them supplies for the ‘Feast’?”

Charlie shrugged, pushing away from the railing and turning her back on the town. “There’s nothing we can do about it, Castiel,” she said calmly. “We got out who we could, we took out what we could, and now we need to move on.”

“I have a few more candles,” Jack said softly, coming up from behind them. “I’m ready to light one for my mom… but, I have some extras.” 

Dean nodded and looked over the town one last time as the boat jerked, cutting through the water at a faster speed. _Move on, look forward. To Sammy._


	8. After All, Life Goes On

**After All, Life Goes On**

_In three words I can sum up,  
everything I have learned in life:  
It goes on.  
Robert Frost _

**Lake Michigan, USA  
45.446185, -86.143375**

They’d gone at a steady pace, Benny and Jack up in the cabin, steering the vessel along the water. Castiel had gone to check on them, making sure that Jack wasn’t getting in Benny’s way, and found the two of them laughing while Benny showed Jack the ropes, teaching him how to run the ship. He’d proclaimed Jack his co-captain, and Castiel had left them to it, returning to Dean to report back with a smile. 

The tugboat had four living quarters with two sets of bunk beds and lockers in each. Once the shoreline was out of view, Charlie and Gilda had disappeared below deck to pick out one of the rooms as their own. Dean had followed after them to make sure the girls were okay before picking out a room for himself and Castiel. He took the mattresses from the two upper bunks and dragged them back up to the deck. 

Castiel sat down on the deck beside him, crossing his legs. Dean looked up from where he was slicing into the mattress with a knife and took a moment to look at Cas. The other man looked relaxed in a way he hadn’t in days. His hair was fluffy, blowing around in the breeze. Dean found himself smiling, and he placed the knife down before reaching forward, running his hand through the wild tuft. 

Castiel gave a small laugh, closing his eyes and leaning into Dean’s touch for a moment. Then he reached up and grabbed Dean’s hand, kissing the back of it before nodding towards the deconstructed mattress. 

“What are you doing?” 

Dean picked up the knife again and a handful of the fabric. “I’m not sure how much longer we’re going to get away with Gilda keeping her bun in the oven,” Dean answered with a shrug. “I want to be prepared in case she does go into labor. We can’t have a newborn rolling around on the floor of a ship, you know?” 

Castiel nodded slowly, tilting his head to the side. “Right… but that doesn’t answer what you’re doing with mattresses.”

Dean gave a small laugh and handed over the knife so he could hold up the pieces in a square shape. “I’m making a crib!” he explained, stretching out his left leg to lean one of the sides up against. “I need to find something to connect them all, but…”

Castiel smiled widely, picking up one of the pieces and examining the fabric. “There was a sewing kit in the gear we picked up at Bobby’s house. I bet the needle would go through this. If not, we’re on a military ship. They probably have something that would work on board.” 

“Awesome,” Dean replied, looking up at Castiel again. “What?” he asked, giving another small laugh. “What’s with the look on your face?” 

“Nothing,” Castiel answered softly, shaking his head. “You’re just an amazing man, Dean Winchester.” He leaned forward, kissing Dean gently before pulling himself up from the deck. Dean sat there for a moment, surprised, before he reached out and grabbed the leg of Cas’ pants. 

“Hey, wait,” he said and gave a small tug. “I wasn’t ready for that, I want a do over.”

Castiel laughed but bent down, kissing him once more before disappearing below deck to find the sewing kit. When he came back, they worked together to complete the makeshift crib and Dean was damn proud of the finished product. While it wouldn’t have passed any safety standards, it was sturdy, soft, and would do what it was intended to. 

He set it down and scooted back, cocking his head as he looked it over. “I’m actually kind of impressed that worked.” 

Beside him, Castiel laughed, but any remaining conversation was halted as the boat began to slow and the engine suddenly cut out. “Fuck,” Castiel whispered, looking up towards the main cabin. 

“Don’t look so worried, cher,” Benny called out as he pushed open the door, both he and Jack making their way down to the deck. “Just dropping anchor here for a while. It’s been a long fucking day.”

Dean couldn’t argue with that. Despite there still being a few hours of daylight, none of them had gotten any sleep the night before. “We left you the first room to the right,” Dean offered as Benny stepped off the stairs and onto the deck, Castiel and Dean standing up from the deck to meet him.

“Just need a few hours of shut-eye and I’ll get back to it,” Benny replied with a tired smile. 

“No, take a few hours and then we’ll figure out something for everyone to eat,” Castiel said. “Then you can get a good night's sleep and we’ll start again in the morning. Are we good to just coast here?” He looked out towards the water. 

“Yeah,” Benny said with a nod. “The navigating equipment is still working, even if we drift. But there’s no one out here on the water with us, so all we have to worry about is the weather.” He looked up at the clear blue sky and gave a shrug. “Don’t anticipate anything comin’ through, but you never know with October weather out here.” 

Dean nodded and watched as Benny went below deck before turning to look at Jack. “Doin’ okay, kid?” 

“Yeah!” Jack replied back with a smile that was immediately interrupted with a wide yawn. “Benny is tea-teaching me a lot of stu-”

Castiel chuckled as Jack continued to yawn and wrapped his hand around Jack’s shoulders, leading him to the hatch. “Dean put your things in the room across from Benny’s.”

Dean watched them go and took a moment on the deck, turning his face up towards the sun. The breeze was chilly and he shivered in his jacket. Despite the clothes they’d gotten from Jack and Kelly’s, they were going to have to do some searching for winter supplies when they made land. He made a mental note to check with the girls to see if they had anything for the newborn and cursed under his breath that he hadn't thought of that before. 

The sun was still shining, but there were limited windows down below to let the light in. Dean pulled a small flashlight from his back pocket and took a final look around the still water. It was water for miles and miles, but he felt a strange comfort with that. 

Dean took his time going down the metal steps below deck and flicked on the flashlight. Benny’s door and Jack’s door were shut, loud snores coming from Benny’s bunk, and Dean smiled at knowing his friend was getting some much-needed rest. 

He paused at the second set of doors, leaning against the frame of the doorway to the right, listening. He heard the soft snores of one of the girls and nodded, content. Then he turned around to the last door, left cracked for him, and pushed it open. Castiel was spread out on one of the bunks, his jacket off and hanging up on the corner post. He cocked his head and smiled at Dean through the slats. 

“I threw your sleeping bag over the bed for you.” He gestured to the side and Dean nodded his thanks, pulling off the heavy coat and shivering in the cold air. Sliding into the sleeping bag and getting to sleep would be a godsend and yet… it wasn’t what Dean wanted to do. 

He looked over at Castiel, stretched out on the bed with an arm up over his head. His eyes were closed, but Dean knew he wasn’t sleeping. Dean toed off his boots and walked between the beds, bending down so he wouldn’t hit his head on the top bunk. 

Castiel jumped slightly as Dean slid his leg over him to crawl in, but quickly got with the program, shifting and reaching across the aisle for Dean’s sleeping bag to pull over them. There was a quick scuffle to open Castiel’s sleeping bag, resulting in Dean accidentally kneeing him in the nuts and kissing him in apology. 

When they were finally settled, Dean’s back was pressed against the cold metal of the ship’s wall, his arm and leg thrown over Castiel and holding him close. Castiel was on his back, almost on the edge of the bed, his arm around Dean’s waist in return. 

“These were definitely not made for two grown men,” Dean mumbled as he snuggled down into the crook of Castiel’s neck, breathing in deep. The vibration of Castiel’s laugh made him laugh and he let his eyes fall shut. With Castiel’s steady breathing and the rocking of the ship, Dean was quickly lulled to sleep. 

The gentle sway of the boat was comforting, along with Castiel’s body pressed against him making him feel safe, but it wasn’t what woke him. Dean gasped as he flexed his hips, rolling into the wet, heat of Castiel’s mouth. His eyes flew open, but the room was pitch dark. 

“Cas,” Dean breathed out, reaching down and finding the top of Castiel’s head, his fingers threading through his hair. Castiel moaned around Dean’s cock in response. “Shit,” he whispered again, giving a small chuckle that quickly slipped into a groan as Castiel’s hands slipped beneath his thighs, pulling him in closer. 

He could get used to waking up like this every day. 

Dean spread his legs wider, Castiel falling between them and pressing closer. Castiel’s hands left a trail of fire as they moved over Dean’s thighs, pressing between Dean’s skin and the mattress to grip his ass. Castiel tongue was like heaven and Dean felt himself getting lost in the sensation, gripping Castiel’s hair tighter to keep from thrusting into the heat of Castiel’s throat. 

His breath hitched, the sound seeming to echo in the small space the bunk bed provided, like they were in their own little world. “Cas!” and “Fuck!” and “God, so good!”spilled from Dean’s mouth like a mantra, Castiel taking in every gasp and moan as encouragement. Dean squeezed his thighs around Castiel’s shoulders, his fingers tapping out a warning on his head, and Castiel swallowed hard, taking Dean over the edge. 

“Good morning,” Castiel rumbled, his voice still thick with sleep and deeper than usual, as Dean’s softening cock slipped from his mouth. He kissed Dean’s stomach, crawling up his body until Dean lifted his arms and hauled him the rest of the way up, crashing their lips together. 

“Good morning,” Dean replied against his mouth, his smile matching Castiel’s. “That was a nice way to wake up.”

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now,” Castiel answered back, kissing him softly before pulling back. “Though, I’m not sure it’s morning yet…”

Dean gave a small laugh and shook his head, his hands trailing down Castiel’s t-shirt. 

“We promised Benny we would figure out dinner,” Castiel said, his tone apologetic. But Dean shushed him with another kiss. Castiel allowed himself to be manhandled, Dean flipping them and crawling over him. Castiel seemed to melt beneath Dean’s touch and Dean smiled as he took Castiel apart, bit by bit. 

Castiel’s shirt was already rucked up, exposing his stomach, and Dean took advantage, smoothing his hands over Castiel’s heated skin. He made quick work of Castiel’s jeans, the other man lifting his hips enough for Dean to slip them down his thighs. 

Dean took his time, kissing the jut of Castiel’s hip bones, tasting the salt from his skin, and relishing in the soft gasps of pleasure the man above him was unable to swallow back. Dean just wanted to hear them again. He pressed his hands flat on the inside of Cas’ thighs, spreading them slightly and lifting his upper body up. He looked up, catching Cas’ hooded gaze, and smiled as he let his jaw fall open and took all of Castiel into his mouth. 

He groaned as the soft head of Castiel’s cock hit the back of his throat, swallowing hard around it as Cas’ hands moved down to grip his shoulders. Dean smiled against the sharp pain-pleasure tug and worked his tongue around Cas’ length, getting the skin nice and wet. 

He worked his way up and down Cas’ cock before he drew back and met Castiel’s gaze again. “I want you to fuck my mouth,” he said and without waiting for a response, relaxed his jaw and dropped back down. 

“Shit,” Castiel groaned, his fingers tightening in Dean’s hair, but it wasn’t until Dean nodded and tapped out his permission on Castiel’s thigh, that Castiel groaned again and took his pleasure. Dean’s eyes fluttered closed and he moaned around Castiel’s cock, keeping his lips open and relaxed as Castiel fucked up into his mouth. 

The taste of Castiel on his tongue, the heavy, warm weight of him, made Dean’s own cock twitch between his legs. Castiel’s thighs flexed with each roll of his hips and Dean’s fingers tightened against the corded muscles, holding on tight. It was forever and yet also way too soon before Castiel was groaning out his name and trying to pull back. 

Dean groaned and pushed down, hollowing his cheeks and swallowing hard, taking Castiel to his climax. Dean swallowed all he was given and kissed his way back up Castiel’s body. “Good morning,” he said with a smile, echoing Castiel’s first words to him. 

Castiel laughed and kissed him soundly. They cleaned up and dressed in the soft glow of a flashlight, leaving their small room hand in hand. 

**Lake Huron, USA  
45.670909, -82.968356**

They’d made it through Lake Michigan, slowing down through the Strait of Mackinac, and were just coasting through Lake Huron when it happened. Dean was leaning over the railing, looking out at the water. They were in Canada now, or so he thought, it depended on how far north on the lake they were. Part of him wondered if Canada was any different than the US, if they’d had fewer cases, more real humans left… 

Castiel slipped up beside him, handing over a styrofoam cup that had seen better days, and gave him a small smile. Dean smiled and looked down at his coffee and lifted it to his nose, inhaling deeply. 

“Thanks,” he said softly and felt Castiel lean into him. The other man’s shoulder was warm, a comfort against the chill air and the wind whipping at them from the speed of the boat. They didn’t say anything else, just leaning into each other and drank their coffee as the sun continued to rise. 

The spray of the water helped just as much as the coffee to wake him up, but it was the shrill scream and the _bang_ of the hatch to below deck that made any thoughts of crawling back into bed disappear. 

Dean spun around, sloshing what was left of his coffee over his hand, to see Charlie scrambling up out of the hatch. Her hair was still braided for sleep, her eyes wide and terrified. 

“Charlie?” Castiel shoved his own coffee into Dean’s hands and ran forward, nearly colliding with Charlie. He held her arms and dipped his head down to meet her eyes. “What is it? What happened? Are you okay?” 

“She said… I didn’t think… Castiel!” As if she had just started seeing him for the first time, Charlie reached up and grabbed him back, tugging sharply. “You have to come, Cas. I don’t know what I’m doing, but you’re a doctor, so _you_ know what you’re doing.”

“Charlie, slow down! I don’t even know what happened!” Castiel replied but allowed himself to be tugged towards the hatch. 

Dean jogged after them, warning them both to be careful on the ladder since all of their shoes were wet from the spray. Charlie ignored him, still talking at rapid speed. 

“This is why I don’t have the uterus in our relationship…”

“Wait,” Dean interrupted as he landed in the hallway, turning to see Charlie throw him a look over her shoulder as she walked towards their room. “You… you do have a uterus?”

“Is that a question or a comment, Winchester?” Charlie asked, then pushed the door open, the sound of Gilda moaning from the room echoing in the hallway. Dean watched a change go over Castiel, his -- boyfriend? Partner? -- last thought brought him up short and he stayed standing in the narrow hall as Castiel and Charlie disappeared from view. 

Inside, Castiel was talking softly to Gilda, then called his name. Dean jumped and took the few steps left to poke his head in the doorway. There were a bunch of flashlights in different positions on the top bunk, making the room bright. Gilda was laying on one of the bunks, a sheet over her lap and her hair piled up on top of her head, a thin sheen of sweat covering her face and neck. 

She was breathing oddly, though, that was really all that told Dean she was in labor. Granted, all he’d ever _seen_ of a woman in labor was what Hollywood showed him, and he was sure that was less than realistic. Castiel had dropped down to his knees beside the bed and had the sheet covering Gilda’s body pulled up to her knees. 

“Dean,” Castiel repeated his name again, meeting Dean’s gaze. “I need you to get a bunch of towels, whatever you can find. Bring what we have for medical supplies in our bags and see if Jack can find anything else on board. Charlie,” Castiel turned his attention away, and Dean left the room as Castiel instructed Charlie to get extra sheets, bowls, and water. 

It was a flurry of activity as the rest of the group collected everything Castiel asked for, Benny docking the ship on a small island which Jack proudly proclaimed was one of the ‘ducks’. He went on to try and explain how many ducks were in the chain of islands before Gilda screamed at him to “Shut the duck up!” and he scurried back above deck, telling Castiel to call him if he needed him. 

The room was too small for everyone, so Benny took his leave, going to the galley to prepare easy to eat food for all of them. If Gilda’s labor was long, they’d need quick, easy things to eat. And if it wasn’t? They’d all want to be loving on their newest addition anyway. Dean hesitated around the door frame for a little while, but both he and Charlie only continued getting in the way. It wasn’t until Gilda snapped at them both that Dean grabbed Charlie’s arm and pulled them across the hallway to his room, close enough for Cas to just call their names and be there in a second if they were needed.

Charlie collapsed on the empty mattress, leaving Dean to climb over his and Cas’ mess of blankets, both of them laying down and facing the other. 

“You okay?” Dean asked, fighting to free a pillow from beneath his ass and handing it over. 

Charlie nodded slowly, getting comfortable, then looked across the dimly lit room with tears in her eyes. “What if I’m a sucky Mom?” she whispered and Dean reached a hand out, finding hers in the aisle. 

“Char, come on. You’re going to be an amazing Mom! Gilda, too.” Dean gave her hand a squeeze and watched a tear track down her cheek. 

“Gilda is going to be amazing,” Charlie agreed, smiling through her tears. “You should’ve seen her… we had this single mom that lived next door, and I swear to God she had like… a million kids. When she had to work, the youngest ones would come to our place, the older ones doing school or work of their own. We would have anywhere from one to three kids under the age of five on the weekdays and Gilda just… she was _so_ good with them. It didn’t matter if we had to pick them up at 4am or 8am, she was up and ready and excited to see those kids. And they loved her.”

Dean smiled, nodding his head as Charlie spoke. Just from the few interactions he’d witnessed back at Chuck’s compound, he could see how great Gilda was with children. But Charlie underestimated herself. “I’m sure they loved you, too.”

“Oh, they did,” Charlie agreed, giving a small laugh. “But if Gilda was working and they were stuck with me? They could hardly hide their disappointment.” 

They fell silent for a moment, listening to the sounds next door, Castiel giving steady, soft words of encouragement as Gilda breathed through her contractions. 

“I don’t know what I would have done,” Charlie whispered suddenly, eyes flicking back up to meet Dean’s gaze, “if we hadn’t found you. If we were still out on our own… I wouldn’t be able to do what Castiel is doing.”

“Of course you could’ve. You would’ve had to,” Dean argued, shaking his head. “You are so much stronger than you think. You would’ve figured it out. Though I’m glad you’re both here with us as well.” 

“When Gilda got pregnant, I was the psycho Mom. We’d been planning this for years, you know? We debated on who was going to carry the munchkin, and I was not thrilled at the idea of being pregnant, though I would’ve done it if she wanted me to. I go back and forth feeling guilty that I wasn’t the one pregnant when shit hit the fan.” 

“Don’t be. Charlie, none of this is your fault, and Gilda loves you. She’s so excited and happy to start this journey with you. I mean,” Dean gave a small huff of laughter and shook his head, “none of us want this shit show that’s going on in the world. None of us would’ve chosen this. But it's happening, and Gilda has one of the best people in the world at her side. You have protected her for months, Charlie. And you’ll continue to do so, because she’s your family.

“And for what it’s worth?” Dean continued, shaking her arm so she would blink away her tears and look at him once more. “You are going to be such an awesome Mom. I know because you’re an awesome friend. You’re an awesome partner. You’re smart, funny, witty, and creative. You have so much drive and passion. The fact that you will pass that on to a new generation? Well, I’m just excited to see how this little kid turns out.”

Charlie smiled and reached her free hand up to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “She said I wasn’t allowed to name the baby Leia,” Charlie said suddenly, giving a sharp laugh. “She said we weren’t allowed to name our child after one of our fantasies.”

Dean chuckled and nodded his head. “Do you know if it's going to be a boy or a girl?”

Charlie shook her head. “No, the last time we had an ultrasound, it was too early to tell. The one we got at the compound was just rudimentary, making sure the baby’s heart was beating and that they were growing.” 

“I think Dean is a fantastic name.” 

Dean laughed in surprise as the pillow he’d given Charlie came flying back at his head. 

“What?” Dean laughed again, flinging the pillow back. “I think it would be an excellent name. Maybe a Deanna?”

“I hate you, Winchester,” Charlie laughed back, tucking the pillow back underneath her head. Dean smiled at her, seeing all the tears were gone from her eyes, and settled back down himself. They laid in a comfortable silence, both of them listening for any sign they were needed in the other room. 

Dean pulled one of the blankets free, handing it over to Charlie, and found himself burying his nose into the sleeping bag. It smelled of Castiel and Dean found himself smiling again, his eyes closing, and soon fell asleep. 

Charlie must have done the same, and both of them were woken up by Castiel shouting from the other room for Charlie. Charlie sat up so fast she knocked her head on the top bunk, cursing under her breath as she untangled herself from the blanket and almost fell out into the hallway. Dean moved as quick as he could after her, careful not to crack his own head on the way over. 

“We’re almost there,” Castiel was telling Charlie, he was on his knees beside the bed, Charlie crouched in the small space between the bunks, her forehead pressed against Gilda’s. “Just keep pushing, Gilda, you’re doing so good.” 

Dean stayed and watched; Charlie immediately jumped into her role, pushing sweat-dampened hair back from Gilda’s face, kissing her softly and whispering to her. Gilda grimaced between pushes, her knuckles white where they gripped Charlie’s hand and the bedspread, but every once in a while she would laugh and tip her head up, kissing Charlie softly. 

Dean wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but Castiel was cool, calm, and seemed to have everything under control. His directions were spoken softly, the entire feeling of the space focused on Gilda and Charlie. Dean wasn’t sure how the hell he managed to make that happen, not when they were literally in a tin can… but he found himself watching Castiel just as much as he was watching the girls. 

Behind him, Jack and Benny came to stand in the hallway, the three of them acknowledging each other with a nod and a smile. And when the baby came into the world, Castiel moving quickly to get it’s nose and mouth clear, all of them found tears in their eyes when they heard the first cry. “November fifth,” Castiel exclaimed, wiping the baby’s skin down with a towel, “and it’s a boy!”

They all gave a cheer, softer than normal, and watched as Castiel finished getting the little baby clean. “Charlie,” Castiel called her over, handing her the baby wrapped in two towels. Charlie’s eyes were wide and she turned terrified to Dean before he shook his head at her. 

“You got this, Red.”

Charlie nodded and quickly moved back to her spot, falling to her knees and pressing the baby against Gilda’s chest, both of them leaning over it and talking softly. Castiel was back beneath the blood-soaked sheet, giving gentle instruction to Gilda to finish up her labor, then made quick work of cleaning the area. 

“When you’re ready to move,” Castiel said as he took a wet towel, cleaning his hands and arms. Dean walked in the room behind him, a clean, dry towel open for his hands. “I want you guys to take our room. Dean and I will bunk with Benny or Jack.” 

The girls nodded at him, lost in their own world. They all took turns offering their congratulations, shaking off Gilda’s offer to hold the baby. 

“We will,” Dean promised, leaning down to kiss Gilda’s forehead, then Charlie’s. “But you guys all need to rest first.” 

“What are you going to name him?” Jack asked suddenly from the doorway and Charlie looked up with a wide smile, then turned her head towards Gilda.

“Samwise,” Gilda answered. “I already know he’ll be loyal, brave, and true. Plus, everyone needs a Sam in their lives.” 

Castiel’s hand was gentle at the small of Dean’s back, a reassurance and a comfort at the same time. Jack went into his room to move some stuff around, saying he would bunk with Benny so they could still have their own room. Castiel and Dean moved quickly and quietly around the girls, finishing cleaning up and removing the soiled linens. 

They got the bed set up for Gilda and Charlie, along with securing the crib in place so if the lake got rough, the crib wouldn’t be thrown about the floor. Then, with the girls both settled, Castiel and Dean found themselves standing in the hallway, alone. 

“You look exhausted,” Dean whispered, reaching up to push Castiel’s hair back from his forehead. “Come on, I’ll get you something to eat and then you should sleep.” 

Castiel just nodded and pressed forward, leaning his entire body into Dean’s and dropping his head onto Dean’s shoulder. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life,” Castiel whispered and Dean immediately wrapped his arms around him, holding onto him tightly. “I’m an orthopaedic doctor, not an obstetrician. I don’t know what I would’ve done if things had gone wrong…” 

“Nothing went wrong,” Dean reassured him, giving him another tight squeeze. “You did amazing, Cas. Gilda is fine and their baby is beautiful. What you did was amazing.” 

Castiel made a soft noise of protest, pressing his nose against Dean’s throat and exhaling. “Thank you for being here.”

Dean gave a small laugh. “Dude, all I did was calm Charlie down and sleep.” 

Castiel shook his head. “Just knowing you were here, that if I called you would’ve come… that was enough.” 

Dean pulled back slightly, dipping down to kiss Castiel softly. “Alright, you big sap, time for bed.” 

Castiel barely bit back a yawn but conceded, following Dean into their new room. Dean left him sitting on the bed, taking off his shoes and pants, in order to find them some food. Benny had left a few plates out, covered with some plastic wrap he’d found on board, and Dean took the girls their plates, too. 

There was tuna fish with saltine crackers, some apples, and some type of cookie Benny had made a few days before. Dean sat beside Castiel and used his knife to cut the apples into slices, both of them eating in silence. When Castiel was finished, he reached for Dean, pulling them both down onto the bed. 

Dean allowed himself to be manhandled, Castiel pressing up against the length of his back and holding him close. Dean found himself smiling, holding onto Castiel’s hand over his chest and relaxing back into the warmth. 

“I was so afraid…” Castiel started again, his voice just above a whisper, his breath hot on the back of Dean’s neck, “that I wasn’t going to get you in time.” 

Dean took a moment to realize he wasn’t talking about the baby anymore and he threaded their fingers together, squeezing his hand. “I mean, I’m glad you did. But, Cas… it would’ve been okay if you hadn’t saved me. Just knowing that you, Jack, and the rest of them were going to be safe? I mean…” Dean gave a small huff, shrugging his shoulders in Cas’ embrace. “I was prepared for that to be my end,” Dean whispered.

“What?” Castiel’s voice was sharp behind him and Dean hesitated for a second, trying to read him. 

“I mean, I knew you weren’t going to fall for Chuck’s plan, and I knew you would get everyone out safe. You would’ve found Sammy, and God… just the two of you can change the wor-”

Dean let out a yelp as he was suddenly ripped backwards, his back flat against the mattress and Castiel leaning over him. Though it was dark in the room, he could just barely make out Castiel’s features, and the other man was _pissed_. 

“You honestly believed I was going to leave you there to die?” Castiel hissed and Dean’s own eyes widened. 

“Not on purpose, no,” Dean argued, shaking his head. “But if it was impossible for you to get to me, then, well... you know.”

“You really think… you honestly…” Castiel stopped again, giving a sharp laugh. “Dean Winchester, you really don’t think you deserved to be saved?” 

Dean swallowed hard, lost in Castiel’s eyes. He didn’t trust himself to speak. He didn’t know what Castiel was getting at, why he was suddenly so angry, but his body was warring with fear and anxiety and arousal all at the same time from having Castiel so close to him. 

“Dean,” Castiel whispered, his voice thick with emotion and Dean found himself wanting to comfort him. Though he wasn’t sure why. “There is no way I was going to leave that place without you. Come hell or high water, I was going to save you. And if that meant the end of my life? Then that was worth the risk.”

“Cas,” Dean shook his head, “there’s no way I’m worth losing your life over. I mean, I’m just some dumbass mechanic from Indiana who was lucky enough to stumble into you.” 

Something flickered over Castiel’s face and he was suddenly gone, falling back on the mattress with his arms over his chest and looking away from Dean. Dean immediately felt the loss and after a moment, when it was clear Castiel wasn’t going to respond, Dean turned on his side and reached for him. 

Castiel allowed himself to be touched, but didn’t hug back. Dean cleared his throat and shifted on the bed. “I… feel like I said something wrong,” he whispered, watching as Castiel closed his eyes. “I don’t want to fight with you, Cas. I don’t… I don’t know what I did. But tell me and we can-”

“I love you, Dean.”

Dean swallowed the words on his tongue, staring, his heart pounding in his chest. “What?” he whispered, his voice breaking. Castiel opened his eyes again and turned his head. 

“I’m angry because you honestly think so little of yourself, that you were just… expendable to me. There is no way I would have left you behind, no way I would ever. I have followed you across the country, Dean, and I will follow you to the ends of this Earth. 

“When I met you, I had no idea where I was going or what I was doing. But, you…” Castiel stopped, shaking his head as a small smile played on his lips. “You are the most caring man, I’ve ever met. You are thoughtful and smart, you’re funny and you’re… In the few short months we’ve been together, you’ve changed me, Dean. 

“And you don’t have to say it back, you don’t have to-”

Dean rolled over him completely, pressing Castiel down into the mattress as he kissed the last excuse from his lips. Castiel gave a soft sigh and kissed him back, reaching up to cup the side of Dean’s face. 

“I love you,” he whispered against Dean’s lips. “And I am so happy to have met you.” 

Dean smiled down at him, anxiety swirling in his gut. He recognized it for what it was - fear. Fear to have this again, to intertwine his life with someone else’s. He’d loved Lisa and losing her had been the most painful thing he’d ever gone through. Now, if it had been reversed, if he was face to face with Castiel turned into a Lifeless… he honestly didn’t think he would be able to go through with it. 

And despite his hesitation, despite Dean still staring down at him, Castiel’s ‘I love you’ hanging heavy and perfect and warm in the air around them, Castiel _didn’t_ expect it back. He was content with what they had, happy enough that Dean knew how he felt, and Dean felt no pressure to discuss his own feelings. 

But he knew that whether he spoke it aloud or not - he was Castiel’s, through and through. He couldn’t imagine finding himself laying beside anyone else. Castiel had come out of nowhere, a guardian angel who saved him over and over again. And keeping that inside? Not saying the words? No.

“I love you, too,” Dean whispered, the smile Castiel gave him back warming him through his very core. “Fuck, Cas. I love you.”

**Silver Creek, New York  
42.549172, -79.170805**

Gilda and Jack stayed behind, guarding both the ship and the baby, as Dean, Castiel, Benny, and Charlie ventured out onto land. 

It had been two weeks since the baby was born, and mid-November was a cold son of a bitch in the north. They’d taken their time, Benny expertly navigating them through the straits, canals, and rivers until they reached the opposite edge of Lake Eerie and were able to dock in New York. 

They needed a map. They needed supplies. And most importantly, they needed winter gear. Bundled in everything they could find, they set out at the morning’s first light through a bright, white covering of snow. Though Dean was immediately cursing their luck, Charlie quickly pointed out it would give them the advantage if there were any humans or lifeless around. 

Dean stopped complaining after that, the four of them falling into silence, listening and watching their surroundings as they made their way through the woods. Charlie had found caution tape on board the boat, and they marked their way every few trees, just in case it snowed again before they were able to get back. 

They quickly found the main road and walked side by side line down the middle of the street. The fire station windows were busted open, but Dean and Benny both nodded, making a mental note to check there as a last resort for something warm. 

They came upon a Silver Creek Pediatric and they split in two, Charlie and Benny going in for baby supplies and Dean following Castiel further down the street into the Rite Aid. When they met up again, they added sample packs of infant formula, bottles, teething rings, and other medical supplies for infants into the bag Dean had stuffed full of beef jerky and advil. Though most of the store had been ransacked, there were a few boxes they found untouched pushed into the corner of the men’s bathroom. Castiel had also proudly procured two bottles of Astroglide, and those were shoved to the bottom of the bag with a laugh. 

The food pantry was a bust, and they were quickly chased out of the building by the group of people who had settled there. The man who ran after them with his shotgun was _not_ interested in any type of conversation. There had been children’s toys inside and a playpen set up in the corner, so Dean couldn’t blame him. If a group of adults approached them now that they had baby Samwise? He probably would’ve acted the same. 

As they continued down the street they came upon a mobile home park, all of them stopping in the snowy street to listen. 

There was no smoke coming from any of the trailers, no noise at all. The only tracks in the snow were from a deer or two. They’d learned enough to know that it didn’t mean there weren’t people inside, and it sure as hell didn’t mean there wasn’t a Lifeless or two, either. But homes in New York were bound to have winter gear, and the idea of finding hats, mittens, coats, and boots was too good of an opportunity to pass up. 

Slowly, they approached the first mobile home, Dean walking up the deck steps and Charlie taking a defensive stance at the bottom, looking out around the park in case anything was to come at them. He knocked, three times, against the glass window and all of them held their breath. 

The first trailer was completely empty, a chaotic mess of upturned furniture, weather destroyed books, and trash everywhere. Someone had already gone through the closets, the bedding, and the cupboards. They moved on to the next one with less hope than before. 

The third trailer had a box of old baby clothes in the closet, but nothing else they could salvage. It wasn’t until the fourth trailer that they found what they were looking for. The man of the house had been large, large enough for his coat to fit Benny, and the woman had kept a coat for every damn day of the week. Although it was women’s, the simple black coat was perfect for Jack, and they added that to a purple coat for Charlie, and light green for Gilda. There was a pair of boots that would fit Benny, and one that would fit Jack. They all tied a few sweaters around their waists to bring back, and shoved hats, mittens, and scarves into the bag Charlie was carrying. 

The next trailer was inhabited, and after reassuring the small family they meant no harm, they slipped back out onto the street. As they turned to head back, Dean stopped and looked down the adjacent street, the brown sign reading MECHANIC ST. 

Dean jerked his head and they all followed him down to a group of speciality warehouses and a variety of cars parked in the lot. It took him a few tries, but he found a truck he could get working, all of them piling their things into the back. Charlie pulled herself up into the passenger seat and Dean nodded to Benny. 

“You guys go ahead and bring these back, Cas and I’ll find another working vehicle and meet you at the ship.” 

“You sure, brother?” Benny asked, shaking snow from his boots as he climbed into the driver’s seat. Dean nodded and waved them off, moving with Castiel down the line of cars. 

His breath nearly stopped as he came across a body he recognized. It wasn’t the right color, the bright red shining through the thin layer of snow, slowly melting in the sun. But it was his baby’s sister. 

“Dean?” Castiel asked in alarm, looking around the area for some kind of threat. “What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“It's a ‘67 Chevy Impala,” Dean answered and heard Castiel make a confused noise behind him. “It was what I had back home. She was my dad’s… came to me when I was sixteen.” 

Castiel moved ahead of him and silently brushed the snow off the hood and windshield, standing back to look fondly at Dean. Dean found himself laughing, moving slowly forward with his hands shaking to touch the cold frame. 

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Dean asked, running his fingers over the hood and looking up to see Cas still watching him. “Bitch to make out in the back of, though. Not enough room.”

Castiel’s sudden laugh was beautiful and Dean found himself pressed against the passenger door, shivering as snow slipped down the back of his jacket, then shivering at the heat in Castiel’s kiss. 

“Want to see if she runs?” Castiel asked, pressing their foreheads together. 

Dean hesitated. He wanted his baby back more than anything, but that was part of his life before. Now... now he had a real baby to get safely through the snow and an entire state to travel across. 

“No,” he said finally, sighing as he turned around to pet the car once more. “She won’t be good in the snow. And we have too many people.”

Castiel nodded and gave Dean his moment before they continued on, finding a Kia Sorento with three row seating. The battery was dead, but Dean was determined, and they broke into one of the warehouses to find an extra battery in the stock room. 

They moved slowly through the streets, but Dean could hardly hide his excitement at being behind the wheel again. It felt good to have four wheels beneath him, and despite the boat being safe, he was sick of being on the goddamn water. They saw the ribbons Charlie had set up and Dean took the car off the road, grateful there wasn’t enough snow or plow banks for it to get stuck. 

As they walked through the forest, Dean reached out, finding Castiel’s hand easily. He pulled them to a stop, smiling at him. “We’re almost there, Cas. We’re in New York.” 

Castiel smiled back at him and tugged him forward, kissing him. “I can’t wait to meet your brother, Dean.” 

Dean smiled back at him and then exhaled. 

_We’re almost there, Sammy._


	9. Then Came You

****

**Then Came You**

_“Be brave enough to find the life you want  
and courageous enough to chase it.   
Then start over and love yourself,   
the way you were always meant to.”  
Madalyn Beck_

**Silver Creek, New York  
42.549172, -79.170805**

Dean carried a steaming thermos of hot coffee up the slippery ladder and out onto the deck. The air was frigid, the sun from the morning all but disappeared now, and he looked up, wondering if it was going to snow. 

Benny had been insistent on moving the boat back out onto the lake for the night, wary of the people they’d come across... and the people they hadn’t. 

“Those families weren’t afraid, cher. I bet there’s more living than dead in those parts. I’m not letting us be an easy target.”

It was hard to argue with that, and the decision to stay overnight on the ship again was unanimous. As much as Dean was _dying_ to get to his brother… the fact that they were here, in New York, was also terrifying. What if… what if Sammy wasn’t here? What if he’d gotten into trouble along the road? The fact that Sioux Falls was two months ago blew his mind, and who knew how long it had been since Sam had written **POUGHKEEPSIE** on the siding. 

Hell, he could’ve given up on Dean finding him and moved on all on his own. What the hell was up here in New York anyways, other than cold snow, ice, and dead Yankees. Sam probably went somewhere warmer, the coast, maybe. Somewhere they wouldn’t have to battle with freezing temperatures and would have created a life for himself, Jess, and whoever else he’d absorbed along the way. Hell, maybe he’d even found Uncle Bobby…

He was still thinking of Sam when he reached the Captain’s box, rapping his knuckles against the glass to get Benny’s attention. The other man was bundled head to toe, just his eyes and a puff of beard poking out over the scarf wrapped around him. He reached over and pushed open the door, Dean ducking under his outstretched arm to enter the small space. 

“Where’s Jack?” Dean asked as he handed over the coffee, Benny smiling at him gratefully and pulling down the scarf to take a deep sip. 

“Told the kid to go and get warm. Couldn’t concentrate over his chattering teeth.” Benny chuckled and gave Dean a half-hearted shrug. “Just about to drop anchor out here any way. Told him to warm up and then meet us all in the galley.”

Dean nodded and leaned back against the closed door, watching out the window as Benny steered the boat to where he wanted it and then started to shut her down. Anchor dropped, Benny removed the keys from the ignition and dropped them into a coffee mug on the dash. 

Dean watched him in amusement. While the idea of someone coming out and getting on the boat was far fetched, it wasn’t necessarily impossible. 

Together, they walked to the hatch and Benny followed Dean down. At the far end of the hallway was a small infirmary, stock room, and then galley with a small kitchen. They moved inside to see the rest of the group already sitting on the benches around the metal table. 

Charlie looked up and smiled, turning in the bench so Dean could sit beside her. He didn’t hesitate when she offered up Samwise, taking the baby into his arms. 

“Hey little man,” Dean said softly, smiling down at the baby and lifting a hand to brush his finger over the baby’s cheek. “How was your nap?” 

Gilda gave up her seat, nodding to Cas to take the end of the bench with Dean, and then went to their food supplies with Benny hot on her tail. They got together some jerky and cans of fruit, Benny popping them open with his combat knife while Gilda found them all silverware. Castiel waited until Charlie nodded at him before he took his spot beside Dean, sliding closer to him on the bench and hooking his chin over Dean’s shoulder to look down at Samwise. 

Gilda sat beside Benny, across from Charlie, and the two exhausted moms leaned over a can of peaches together. Benny passed over two cans of pears and a can of pineapple to the end of the table, digging into a can of his own. 

“You eat,” Dean said, turning his head to meet Castiel’s gaze. “Then we’ll switch.”

Castiel lit up at the idea that he was next in line to get the baby, and it made Dean smile. He’d never really thought of a baby being around, in his life before or after the virus. Lisa had gotten her tubes tied after Ben and had always been adamant that he was enough. Dean had never argued that. 

But now, over the last few weeks, seeing how Castiel acted with Samwise? The way he talked with Jack? It made something stir inside of Dean. Fruitless, perhaps, seeing as it was physically impossible for either one of them to carry a baby, but it was there, nonetheless. 

As if he could hear Dean’s train of thought, Castiel looked up, his lips sticky with syrup, and Dean couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward and kissed the sweetness from his lips. 

“Ew, not in front of my child!” Charlie groaned, pretending to hide her face. “He’s innocent! Far too young to be corrupted.”

Gilda snorted across from her and rolled her eyes. Dean chuckled but turned back, leaning his back against Castiel’s side, smiling when Cas’ arm came around him. When they’d all eaten, Samwise passed from Dean to Castiel, then to Jack and finally Benny before Gilda took the cranky infant to feed, and Benny got down to business. 

“Dean and Castiel brought back an SUV that should fit all of us. It’ll be tight with all of our bags, so we need to decide if we should divide into two cars or not.” 

The idea of splitting up was an uneasy one. Though things had - so far - been relatively easy on the road, the thought of something separating them permanently made Dean’s stomach clench. What if they were attacked? What if one of the cars broke down? What if there ended up being a horde of Lifeless they weren’t able to work around? 

But if they all piled into the Kia, a lot of things would have to be left behind. It would be hard for them all if it wasn’t easy to find Sam. They would have to find shelter that was safe and warm for all of them and find replacements for whatever they were forced to leave behind. 

“I think it makes the most sense to bring both vehicles,” Castiel finally answered, stopping all side conversations. “None of us want to go through things and choose what we could leave behind. Everything we carry with us now has a purpose, and I know I would like to keep all of my things. That being said, all of our packs won’t fit between our feet in the car, not with a driver and a baby, too.”

Benny nodded, looking over at Gilda as she finished feeding Samwise and lifted him over her shoulder to burp him. Charlie watched her fondly for a moment before getting up to set up the crib. 

“I can drive the truck with Jack,” Benny said. “There’s a tarp in the storage, we can put all of our packs in the truck bed and make sure everything’s covered in case it rains or snows.” 

Castiel nodded and then glanced over at Jack. Dean followed his gaze and saw the younger man smile, excited at the idea of getting to ride with Benny. It made Dean smile, knowing how well they hit it off. 

“You girls good going with us?” Dean asked, looking over at Charlie and Gilda as they laid Samwise down for a nap. 

“Sounds good to me,” Gilda answered, letting Charlie finish tucking Samwise in and sitting back at the table. 

“Alright, lets get everything packed up tonight as best as we can, and we’ll leave in the morning at first light,” Benny instructed and the group nodded in agreement. 

“I’m going to go through our things,” Castiel said softly, his hand trailing over Dean’s shoulders before he left with Jack in tow. Dean looked up and saw Benny was looking at him and he nodded, knowing Benny still wanted to talk about their plan. 

The girls moved the baby carefully, disappearing into their room so Dean and Benny could look over the map. 

“We definitely want to stay south,” Dean said as he leaned over the map, Benny smoothing out the crinkled corners. “I think I-90 would cut back on some time, but we’d have to go through Buffalo, Rochester, Utica, Albany…” Dean shook his head and looked up, seeing Benny nodding along with him. “I don’t think an hour or two would be worth it.”

“No, I agree,” Benny said with a sigh. “I’m worried about just cutting straight across, too. There’s a lot of backroads which could be dangerous if there’s a lot of snow. Nothing is going to be plowed or sanded or any of that. If we take the routes and interstates, there’s going to be a smoother ride.”

“Theoretically,” Dean added with a shrug. 

“Theoretically,” Benny agreed. They tracked out their route, Benny making marks on the map with a bright red sharpie, including an alternative route. “I’ll have you follow behind me,” Benny said as he folded up the map and pushed away from the table. “Just in case there’s trouble, you can get the girls out of there.” 

Dean took a deep breath, forcing himself not to argue the fact immediately. If something were to happen, driving away and leaving Benny and Jack to fend for themselves while he got the girls and Samwise to safety… wouldn’t be the easiest thing to do. But, they both knew he would. 

After a moment, Dean nodded and stood. 

“See you in a few hours, brother,” Benny said in parting as Dean clapped him on the shoulder before entering his and Castiel’s room. Cas was kneeling on the ground, facing the empty bed where all of their things were spread out. He was muttering under his breath and Dean leaned against the bedpost to watch him. 

“Need any help, angel?” Dean asked and Castiel glanced up at him, giving him a small smile.

“I’m just taking inventory and making sure we have everything with us. We’ve kept everything mostly together…” he started as he picked up the first aid kit, repacking the contents. They worked quickly, refolding their clothes, sorting and counting their ammo. Castiel slipped out to refill their canteens, coming back with a milk crate full of food that he set in the corner. 

As they climbed into the twin-sized bed, Dean smiled as Castiel curled himself around Dean’s back, holding him close. He hoped that wherever Sam’s camp was, they at least could find full-sized beds, but he would be lying if he said sleeping tangled up with Castiel wasn’t amazing. 

“Dean?” 

“Hmm?” Dean answered, closing his eyes and sinking into Cas’ warmth. 

“Are you excited?” 

Dean smiled and nodded, as Castiel pulled the blankets up around them tighter. “Yeah, I am,” Dean whispered, his throat clicking as he swallowed. “I’m… afraid, too. What if…” Dean trailed off, Castiel hugging him tighter. 

“Let’s just get there first,” Castiel said softly, and Dean blew out a slow breath. “But your brother is a Winchester.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, “we’ll find him.” 

They were quiet, and while Castiel was probably thinking about Sam and their travels to Poughkeepsie, Dean was thinking of another brother. 

“You know…” Dean trailed off, listening to the sound of Castiel breathing for a moment to make sure he wasn’t asleep. “Washington DC isn’t that far away from New York…” 

He felt the moment his words registered, Castiel’s entire body stiffening against him before he relaxed again into Dean’s back. 

“No,” he answered softly. “Not… that far. But the East Coast is pretty congested and-”

“Once we find my brother, we can try and find yours, if you want.” 

Castiel made a small noise, pressing his nose into the back of Dean’s neck. He didn’t speak, but Dean knew. 

He found Castiel’s hand beneath the sleeping bag over them and gave his fingers a squeeze. “Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

**Highland, New York  
41.712912, -73.949400**

The trip had taken almost twice as long as they’d anticipated, the group having to reroute a few times due to barricades of armored vehicles across the highways, storms that had caused trees to fall and then freeze across the way, and a snowstorm hitting around midday. They’d passed a few settlements, lights glowing brightly in the dark, and they made their way quickly around those areas. 

They had a mission. 

As they arrived at the Hudson River, Benny led them as close to the Hudson Walking Bridge as he could get without actually driving over it and parked, getting out to stretch his legs with Jack. Dean parked the Kia beside him and glanced over at Castiel, the other man nodding his head. 

Dean walked towards the river bank, the moonlight reflecting off the snow on the ground, giving him enough light to see in the dark. He held his breath as he looked over the water at the city. They were standing atop the train tracks, the Hudson River as dark and murky as Dean had always known it to be. But Poughkeepsie… 

The city was calm, almost _too_ calm. Despite the chill of the air and the snow falling softly, there was no movement, no fires. But, unlike when they’d arrived in Silver Creek and saw the same at the mobile home park, something in him broke as he looked, eyes scanning the shoreline for any sign of life. Why weren’t there lights? Smoke curling into the dusk to disappear behind the clouds? The idea that they’d gotten this far…

“He’s not here,” Dean whispered, his voice cracking, and Castiel was immediately there, his arms wrapping around Dean’s stomach and pulling him back against his chest. Of course Cas heard him. Cas always seemed to be attuned to everything Dean. “The city looks-”

“Hush,” Castiel whispered back, hooking his chin over Dean’s shoulder and giving him a squeeze. “We don’t know that. They could be well hidden, they could be on the outskirts of town. If your brother is anything like you? He’s stubborn and resourceful, he’s smart and he’s not going out without a damn fight.”

“But what if he’s not there, Cas? What if the city had fallen too far and it wasn’t safe? What if he’s gone?” 

“Then we will find him, Dean,” Castiel replied, as if it was that simple. “Your brother left you a direction back in Sioux Falls, and he wouldn’t leave this city without leaving you another. We will find him, Dean. I feel it in my bones.”

Dean swallowed hard and nodded, allowing Castiel to pull him back off the tracks where the rest of the group was waiting. Charlie had Samwise strapped to her chest, a blanket covering him from the cold air and tied around the back of her neck. Beside her, Gilda was watching them, patient as ever. 

“There’s a house back here, brother,” Benny said as he jerked his head back to the woods they just came from. “Looks clear, from what I can see.” 

Dean nodded and went to the SUV, pulling out his katana. “Benny and I will clear the house,” he said as Jack came over to the side of the car with him. “You and Cas stay here with the girls,” he ordered and Jack nodded quickly, reaching in for the diaper bag and sliding it over his shoulder. 

“Be careful,” Castiel hummed softly and Dean nodded at him, giving the girls a small wave before he turned after Benny to go to the house. They cleared it quickly - the back door was open, and it had been abandoned for weeks. They closed up the rooms they wouldn’t use and Dean left Benny in the living room to get a fire started as he went to fetch the rest of their group. 

The pipes had frozen, so there was no chance of running water, but the fire Benny had going was warm and they were quickly able to shed their extra layers and set up their camp. Despite his gnawing fear that they wouldn’t find Sam, that Castiel was wrong and his brother would forever be beyond his reach, Dean found himself accepting baby Samwise and rocking him with a smile on his face as Gilda and Charlie took a moment to themselves. 

It was amazing… how small and fragile this new, tiny human was, and yet he was here, being passed between the group, warm in his blankets, crying and smiling and _living_. Dean lifted a hand, running his finger over the sleeping baby’s cheek. When he looked up, Castiel was watching him from across the fire, a small smile on his lips. Dean found himself returning it, watching as Castiel went back to work preparing food for everyone with Jack over the fire. 

Dean found himself slowly shaken awake by Castiel, both him and Samwise fast asleep in the recliner. He set Samwise in the crib, the baby only giving a small whine before settling again. They ate in a comfortable silence, sitting between the couch, loveseat, and recliner. By the time they were finished, Gilda moved closer to the fire and picked up Samwise to feed him. Castiel stood, taking his own blanket to place over her shoulders so she wouldn’t get too chilled. 

“I’ll get the dishes,” Benny offered, collecting everyone’s dirty plates, silverware, and the empty canteens. He’d already thought ahead, filling a ten-gallon Home Depot bucket from the garage with snow, giving him plenty of water to wash the dishes with in the kitchen sink. 

Charlie and Jack sorted through their laundry, determining what needed to be washed now and how much water they needed to do so. Castiel and Dean set up all of their sleeping bags and blankets before they resettled together on the cold, dusty couch. Gilda glanced at them once before giving a small smile, understanding their need for privacy, and she turned her attention back to Samwise, singing to him softly. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Cas…” Dean whispered, sinking against Castiel as the other man lifted his arm and draped it over Dean’s shoulders. It was cooler, this far away from the fire, but there was comfort in sharing warmth with one another. 

“Dean, you can’t stay up all night worrying about something that might not be,” Castiel answered, giving his arm a squeeze. “We have no idea what we’re going to find.”

Dean nodded, then shook his head. “I’m going to worry until I know for sure. I just… everything I’ve done has led to this, from the moment I left Cicero, to meeting you, and getting to Bobby’s house. It was always about finding Sammy, making sure my little brother was okay, and I…” Dean snapped his mouth shut and closed his eyes. “I don’t know what to do if he’s not there.”

Castiel stayed silent for a moment, his thumb rubbing small circles on where it rested against Dean’s shoulder. “We won’t give up,” Cas said finally. “I told you I would help you find Sam, and I’m with you now… no matter where we end up.” 

Dean tipped his head back, kissing Castiel softly. “I know,” he whispered.

“I love you,” Castiel gave him a small smile, pressing their foreheads together. “We will find him. Okay?” 

“Okay.”

**Poughkeepsie, New York  
41.712353, -73.908944**

The walkway across the river was a thick sheet of ice, and the fresh dusting of snow covering it only made it that much more treacherous. Despite moving as fast as he could, Dean took his time as they moved into the city, his eyes scanning the surrounding area as they went. Castiel was a few steps behind him, stopping every few feet to walk to the edge and look out over the water. 

Charlie was ahead of them, moving fast and then sliding on the ice. It made Dean smile to watch her. Benny, Gilda, and Jack were back at the house washing their clothing and keeping the baby safe while the rest searched for a sign of Sam.

“You know, you’re going to hit a rock and faceplant,” he called out as she stumbled once, spinning around to flip him off. Her cheeks were as red as her hair and she beamed back at him. 

“Live a little, Winchester!” she called back and continued skating her way across the bridge. 

By the end of the bridge, Charlie had slowed so they were all three walking together once more. The air was still, grey and cold, though the snow had stopped falling late in the night. Dean exhaled slowly, watching his breath hanging heavy before him before disappearing. 

They hadn’t seen any sign of life, Lifeless or otherwise, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. From their spot over the water on the walking bridge, they could see that most of the metal gate surrounding the city was still standing solid, but still, nothing. 

A city as large as Poughkeepsie should be full of people. And yet… 

Dean rubbed a glove hand over his brow, trying to ignore the start of a pounding headache. The walking bridge emptied out into a parking lot, a few cars were parked and buried in snow. They moved into the center of it, looking around. 

“Well,” Charlie broke the silence, looking down each side of the street before turning back to the boys, “right or left?” 

Dean licked his lower lip and looked up, something catching his eye from between the bare, stretching branches. He ducked his head and squinted, then started walking forward. 

“Oooh-kay,” Charlie sang after him, “guess straight is an answer. Though, not sure if that works for any of us here.” 

He heard Castiel snort in response but he ignored them both, heading towards the large brick building across the street. It had layers of graffiti covering it, pictures ranging from hopeful to horror. But it was the last layer, the sentence sprayed between the top floor windows, that gave him pause. 

**GO TO BOBBY’S - SW**

Dean stared at it for another moment before turning around and looking for Cas, the other man looking up at the words with a pinched expression. 

“What the fuck?” Dean’s voice was loud in the silent street. “Go to Bobby’s? Is he fucking kidding me?” 

“Who is Bobby?” Charlie asked, but Dean ignored her in favor of spinning back around and pointing up at the words. 

“We just spent _weeks_ \- why would -” He growled in frustration and ripped the hat off his head before reaching back up and tugging at his hair. 

Castiel stayed silent, mouthing the words slowly before stepping into the center of the street and looking down both sides. “There has to be something more,” he muttered but Dean simply shook his head. 

“I think he’s pretty clear, Cas.”

“I have no idea what the hell you two are going on about,” Charlie added in and Dean turned to her to give her an apologetic smile. 

“My Uncle Bobby lives in Sioux Falls,” he started but Charlie shook her head. 

“That’s not southwest from here…”

“No, it's my brother’s initials. Sam Winchester.” 

“Come on,” Castiel said, adjusting the blade on his back and pointing to the left of the parking lot. “There’s an info center over there.” 

“So?” Dean sighed. “What’s that got to do with the price of tea in China?” 

“Don’t be a dick, Dean,” Charlie muttered, shoving his arm and pushing past him to head towards where Castiel had pointed. Dean sighed and watched Castiel go after her, taking a few running steps to catch up. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, bumping shoulders with Castiel. The small smile he received let him know he was forgiven. 

The door to the info center was smashed, a dusting of snow and glass spreading out across the floor. They moved in slowly, checking each room before deciding it was clear and going back to the main room for a better look. 

Dean took his time picking through the cabinets of the help desk, out of habit looking for anything that would be useful. But Castiel was standing over by the rack of maps, muttering under his breath as he threw weather damaged pamphlets into a pile on the floor. 

“Gum?” Charlie asked as she hopped up on the desk next to Dean, ripping the top of a five pack of Wintergreen. 

“Where did you find that?” Dean asked, watching as she pulled off the foil wrapper and crunched her way through the stick. He wrinkled his nose at the sound and watched her facial expression as she chewed it. 

“Not that bad,” she said with a shrug, holding out the pack to him once more. Dean gave a small laugh and shook his head, jumping slightly as Castiel slammed down a map triumphantly before them and spread it out. 

“Cas,” Dean sighed as he watched Castiel’s finger trail over the area, “what are you looking for?” 

“I just…” Castiel trailed off and leaned forward, Charlie immediately reaching in her back pocket for a flashlight and clicking it on. “Thank you, Charlie,” Castiel said with a smile and then gasped. “Yes! Here! Look, Dean.”

Dean twisted his head to the side and looked at where he was pointing, Castiel turning the map enough for Dean to be able to read it sideways. 

“Bobby’s Automobile Repair and Collision,” Dean read and Castiel tapped the page excitedly. 

“Yes! Go to Bobby’s! He didn’t mean go back to South Dakota, Dean. He meant go here!” Castiel looked up and met Dean’s eyes, smiling widely. “He’s here, Dean! He’s _here_!”

Dean stared back then slowly, a smile spread over his lips. Excitement and relief was suddenly overwhelming and he burst out laughing, reaching for the lapels of Castiel’s jacket and hauling him forward, kissed him fiercely over the top of the map. 

“Alright, well, I would say get a room but…” Charlie cleared her throat and chuckled as Dean reached up and gave her a shove. “Lets go get your brother, Dean.” 

\--

The auto shop was destroyed, every pane of glass shattered and the door to the garage busted in. Dean stood in the center of the parking lot, shaking as he stared at the building. There was nothing here, nothing but ruin. 

He barely felt Castiel touch his shoulder, barely heard Charlie say she’d stay with him, barely saw Castiel moving, carefully, forward with his gun drawn into the building. He wasn’t even sure how long Castiel was gone, but the expression on his face did not match the scene they were looking at. 

Castiel was smiling, shaking his head as he walked out with a folded map. 

“Your brother didn’t want anyone but us to find him,” Castiel said as he rejoined them, holding out the map. Dean just stared at him, glancing down at the map, then back up to his face. “Sam isn’t in Poughkeepsie, but he left this for us to find him.” 

Dean blinked and reached forward, Charlie helping him by taking one of the sides of the map to open it wide. 

A silver sharpie had been used in the upper corner. _Not safe here, too many of them, too many of us. We found a home, Dean. Make sure nothing’s stuck to your shoe._

“I’m going to kill him,” Dean whispered, but found himself smiling in relief. 

“I don’t understand what he meant about making sure nothing is ‘stuck to your shoe’...” Castiel said, leaning over the top of the map to re-read the words again. 

“Means make sure no one’s following us. There must be a pretty big group here.” 

They fell silent then, looking around the parking lot they were standing in. They hadn’t seen any tracks in the snow, but they’d made plenty of them. The look on Charlie’s face matched the feeling in his gut and Dean nodded, folding up the map and sliding it into his coat pocket. 

The three of them walked as quickly as they could back the way they came, though this time, there was no happy skip in Charlie’s step, and Castiel was the one stumbling every few feet as he tried walking backwards, keeping an eye on what was going on behind them. 

When they neared the start of the bridge, Dean’s heart nearly stopped in his throat. There were another three sets of footprints going in the opposite direction of where they came, heading towards the rest of their group. 

Dean had barely gotten her name from his mouth before Charlie was running across the bridge. 

“Fuck,” Castiel swore, grabbing Dean’s arm and yanking him forward. They ran as fast as they could without hurting themselves, reaching the house completely out of breath. Charlie was already up on the porch, the footprints tracking right to the door.

“Charlie!” Dean warned, Castiel caught him as he tripped over the first step and nearly sprawled himself on the deck. Charlie threw the door open, her gun already raised, and they ran into Gilda holding a shotgun aimed right at them. 

“Shit!” Gilda gasped, dropping the gun to the ground and stumbling back, falling against the wall. “I could’ve fucking shot you guys!”

Charlie dropped her gun and crashed into Gilda, throwing her arms around her and pulling her close. Gilda made a small oomph but her arms came around Charlie’s back, holding onto her just as tightly. 

“I’m okay, _we’re_ okay. I promise,” she whispered into Charlie’s hair, the redhead’s shoulders shaking as the adrenaline fueled terror turned into a tearful relief. 

Castiel shut the front door, locking it just as Benny and Jack came out from the kitchen. 

“What happened?” Dean asked, watching as Castiel moved around the first floor, checking every window and door that led to the outside. “Are you guys okay?” 

“Yeah,” Benny replied, nodding his head. “Though, hearing Charlie come storming up those steps… I thought that-” He stopped and cleared his throat, shaking his head. “We’re good, brother.”

“What happened?” Dean repeated, watching as Jack went to the kitchen pantry, pulling baby Samwise up from his crib. 

“There was a small group, three of them,” Jack started, walking over to the girls. Charlie gave a loud sob and reached for Samwise, pulling him and Jack between her and Gilda. 

“Said they were settled in Poughkeepsie, saw us come in,” Benny continued for him, looking up as Castiel rejoined them. “We told them we weren’t interested in joining them and they… got kind of squirrely. Not _Chuck_ squirrely, mind you, but enough that we were worried they might come back.”

“Did they want anything?” Castiel asked, taking his place beside Dean and starting to pull off his winter gear. Dean followed suit, handing over his gloves, scarf, and a hat so they could be hung up near the fire. 

“Said they didn’t,” Benny answered with a shrug. “Were trying to be friendly, asked us if we needed anything, how many of us were here. If we had enough food and supplies for the winter…” 

Dean nodded slowly, looking over at Charlie who had finally released Jack, Samwise, and Gilda and was wiping the tears from her cheeks. “We found Sam,” Dean said and flicked his eyes back towards Benny. 

The other man smiled wide, his relief and excitement reflected through the rest of their group. 

“He’s not here, though,” Dean added, reaching into his jacket to pull out Sam’s map. “He’s at Mohonk Mountain House?” 

Benny took the map and opened it up, then gave a sharp laugh. “I’ll be…” he said softly, shaking his head. “That’s actually pretty fucking smart of him.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, looking over Benny’s shoulder at the map again. The area Sam had marked was pretty big, his brother had circled all around it as well as drew out the best path to get there. But as far as Benny’s comment went… 

“I’ve been there before,” Benny answered, folding up the map and handing it back over. “It’s this big old resort that sits on the river and a large cliff face. If they’re able to secure the other side of the property… they won’t have to worry about much. There’s stables, gardens, fresh water…” 

“Well,” Dean said with a sigh, tucking the map back in his coat and squaring his shoulders. “Up for one more drive?”

**High Falls, New York  
41.768517, -74.155185**

The forest was thick and the road winding, covered in snow and ice. They’d piled everything and themselves into the SUV once the truck was stuck at the bottom of the mountain road, no amount of pushing was getting the two-wheel drive vehicle any further. 

It was tight. Benny was crammed with most of their things in the third row, Jack sitting on top of gear and Castiel almost buried by their packs, but they were so close, Dean could almost taste it. They moved slowly. The last thing they needed to do was get stuck in a ditch in the literal middle of nowhere. But just as Dean was about to call it, the SUV losing traction despite his best efforts to keep a steady pace through the fresh snow, they were stopped anyway. 

The wooden sign up ahead of them claimed they were at Mohonk Mountain House Gate House, the road ahead of them completely barricaded by vehicles and trees. There was a revving of an engine and Dean reached for the door lock as two snowmobiles came out from behind the guard shack, their riders covered from head to toe in black snow gear. Dean stared out at them, the two riders coming to stop at the side of the vehicle. 

He kept his eyes trained on their hands; both had weapons strapped to their backs and their sides. The first rider raised his shaking hands and Dean moved fast, reaching for his own gun at his hip and pointing it at the window. It was a threat, he wouldn’t actually fire through the glass unless he needed to, but it caused the rider to pause. 

They stared at one another and Dean was just about to reach down and put the car in reverse when the man started moving again, moving his arms frantically to tell Dean to stop. Then he reached up, removing his helmet. 

Dean dropped the gun in his hands and scrambled for the door. Castiel called his name in alarm as he fell out of the car, slipping in the snow as the rider fell off his snowmobile, crashing into Dean in the snow. 

“You’re here! You’re here, you’re here!” Sam kept repeating, his hands freezing and snow falling down the collar of Dean’s jacket as he wrapped himself around his brother. But Dean didn't care. He didn’t care that the tears on his cheeks were like ice, or the fact that he was sobbing into his brother’s chest. Sam was here, he was _alive._

The rest of Dean’s group slowly got out of the car, realization dawning and relief palpable in the air around them. The other rider turned off his snowmobile and removed his helmet, talking softly to Benny and Castiel by the back of the car. 

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” Sam whispered against Dean’s cheek, clinging back just as desperately. 

“You think you could’ve gotten rid of me that easy?” Dean replied, pulling back to look at his brother’s face. Sam’s hair was longer, his face older, and he had a scar across his cheek that made something in Dean’s stomach twist in agony. But he didn’t look too skinny, his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright. “Fuck, Sammy, I’m so happy.”

Sam burst out laughing, hugging him tightly once more before he untangled them and reached for the side of the SUV to pull himself up, holding out a hand to help his brother up after him. They turned together, suddenly remembering the rest of the group, and Sam laughed again, waving his hand. 

“Hi, I’m Sam,” he greeted, smiling wide. 

“Oh, he’s adorable,” Charlie said and Sam flushed, holding out his hand to shake hers. Dean introduced the group, saving Castiel for last. 

“We have a lot to catch up on,” Dean started, reaching for Castiel’s arm and moving his hand down to take Cas’ hand in his own. “But… this is Castiel. He saved my life, a few times over, and… he’s…” Dean hesitated, glancing over at him. Castiel squeezed his hand, giving Dean the go-ahead to say whatever he wanted for them. “He’s my partner. He’s… everything.” 

When he looked back at his brother, Sammy had tears in his eyes again, and he was smiling widely at Castiel. Then, suddenly, he flung himself at Castiel, hugging him just as hard as he’d hugged Dean on the ground. 

Castiel made a small noise of surprise and Dean smiled as he watched him return the hug, his eyes closed as he listened to whatever Sam was whispering in his ear. When Sam pulled back, Castiel clapped him on the shoulder and nodded. 

“Alright,” Sam said after introducing his friend Brady, “we don’t clear the roads down here because it helps us keep track of who’s coming and going. We don’t get people up here often, but ‘DJ Trick’ has a broadcast that does bring a few people in. It’s why we keep a patrol down here during the day.”

“How many of you are there?” Dean asked, watching as Sam bent down on the side of his snowmobile to pull out a radio from a black bag. 

“Well… we started out with twenty-five, and by the time we got to Poughkeepsie we had eighteen.” Dean nodded in understanding, his heart hurting for his brother’s loss. “But we caught wind of DJ Trick’s broadcast and sent a message out to him. He had about thirty people in his group, and we met up in Highland and then… we grew.”

“You said there were people in Poughkeepsie?” Dean asked, watching Sam nod. 

“There was a group that was already there that was not interested in sharing their area. They had a… join us or we’ll kill you type of attitude. Though, since we’ve left the city, they haven’t bothered us at all.” Sam shrugged and clicked the radio on, silence falling over them as the static cleared and he opened a line of communication. “This is Ginormatron, we have some new additions. Four wagons and a boat, please.” 

“Got the kielbasa you ordered, Ginomatron. Blonde Mama out.” 

Sam chuckled and put the radio back. Dean raised a brow, shaking his head. “What the fuck was that?”

Sam laughed and shrugged. “Trick has some fucked up names for us all. He came up with the code.” Sam turned to the group and jerked his head back. “Get all your stuff and come on over to the guard shack. We have some food and a fire going. They’ll be coming down with some snowmobiles and a trailer for all of your things. 

By the time they had all of their things out of the car, all of them bundled into the small guard shack, the sounds of the approaching vehicles could be heard in the distance. The sun was starting to set, but the headlights were bright enough that none of them were worried about traveling up the mountain at night. 

“You good?” Sam asked Brady, the other man nodding and looking around the small shack. He packed up what little they had left of their snacks and put out the fire while Sam, Benny, Castiel, and Dean packed their things into the trailer that was brought down. It was hitched to the back of a snowmobile, and Charlie offered to ride on that one with the baby, knowing the drive would be a little slower with the extra luggage. 

Dean climbed on the back of Sam’s snowmobile, muttering “This is the only time I’ll let you drive my ass anywhere,” causing his brother to bust out laughing before he flipped the ignition. The rest of the group climbed onto a snowmobile, and then they were off. 

The roads were snow covered and slick, the air icy as they whipped through the path Sam’s group had formed between the trees. Sam tried to yell over the sound of the wind and the engine, but Dean shook his head, tapping his brother’s thigh to let him know it was okay. They had all the time in the world now. 

The forest was thick, but the sky was clear above them. Dean looked up, squinting against the cold in his eyes, and found himself smiling as he looked at all the stars above them. For the first time in a long time, he felt truly, _completely_ happy. He turned his head, and found Castiel looking at him over Brady’s shoulder, his smile wide and happy. Dean found himself laughing in response and squeezed his brother’s stomach. He felt like he was home. 

As they came up on the resort, Dean’s eyes widened at the amount of light he could see. There was no way it was lit by fire, and as if Sam could hear his thoughts, he pointed in the distance where Dean could just barely make out a water wheel, twisting in the river. 

They passed a stable, the inside lit up and Dean could see horses and cows in the stalls. There were multiple pens with smaller barns, a chicken coop, and green houses - some of which Dean could tell had been there before, and some Sam and his group had obviously built. 

There was a dock, boats floating on the river, and a parking lot full of snowmobiles, four-wheelers, pick up trucks, and cars. Sam effortlessly twisted the snowmobile around, coming to park in front of the resort, the building looming over them like a castle, and Dean found himself gasping as the doors opened and what looked like a hundred people came walking out, bundled in sweatshirts and blankets. 

There were children, men and women of various ages, and Dean found himself laughing again. As Sam cut the engine, he stayed, staring until Sam twisted back around in his seat. 

“Welcome home, Dean,” he said softly and Dean nodded, still smiling wide. 

Behind him, Castiel came to stand beside Dean, slipping his arm over Dean’s shoulder. Jack, Charlie with Samwise, Gilda, and Benny joined around them, all smiling back at the group of people come to greet them. 

Dean reached back and took Cas’ hand in his own. He was about to repeat Sam’s words when a sudden scream came from the group ahead of them, a short man bursting forth clad in head-to-toe plaid pajamas. Dean looked at his brother in alarm, but Sam looked just as confused. 

“That’s DJ-”

“Gabriel?” Castiel whispered, his hand tightening around Dean’s painfully. Then, he was suddenly gone, charging through the snow. “Gabriel!”

“Cassie!” the man yelled back, half laughing, half crying as he collided with Castiel in the middle of the walkway, both of them falling to their knees in the snow. 

Dean smiled, clapping Sam on the shoulder. “It’s Castiel’s brother,” he supplied and Sam’s eyes widened, his head jerking back to the brothers reuniting. 

“Holy fuck,” Sam whispered, and Dean nodded his head. “He talks about Cas all the time… half of his radio time is spent with these uplifting stories from his childhood…” Sam trailed off. 

Dean slid off the back of the snowmobile, tears stinging his eyes as he watched his partner cling to his brother just like Dean had his own an hour ago. He knew what Castiel was feeling, the overwhelming _relief_ at having the weight of not knowing lifted off his shoulders. 

He looked up at the people watching the newcomers with interest, smiling at Gabriel and Castiel in the snow, and turned back to his own small group, chatting softly between themselves and smiling, happy for Castiel. 

“We’re home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a wild ride for me and I am so incredibly proud of this story. I hope you enjoy it. I was lost in this verse, I could write in it forever, and I have so much more of the story I want to tell if the interest is there. Let me know if that's something you guys would be interested in ♥ Feedback fuels the fire, let me know what you think!


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